Safe Room

You are hurting
and it shows.

The discomfort is your eyes
and in the sound of your voice.

if only your family would
read between the lines of those carelessly chosen words
you thrust out into the universe;
they’d see the jig is up.

You don’t smoke and drink liquor
out of habit just because you feel liberated.
That unaccountable place feels safe and untouched by human error,
your way of processing your childhood trauma.

You don’t know how to cope any other way.
You’re suffocating, desperately trying
to keep your spirit above water.