3 A.M.

Thu, 01/09/2014 - 22:28 -- jnr1995

I am a little girl

Tucked in bed, sleep tight

As moonlight fills my room

The pitter patter of rain plays music on my window pane.

I try and focus in on the rain, but I can't drown out the yelling

The 3 a.m. fight

I am too young to understand, so tears fill my eyes and mimic the rain

Down they flow and louder the shouts grow.

I fall asleep.

I am old enough to understand, and young enough for it to be a new pain.

The handcuffs at 3 p.m. cause the withdrawal symptoms at 3 a.m.

He is not alone, I am not alone

The 3 a.m. fights pursue, cursing and shoving, clawing, and crying.

I shelter myself beneath my pillows and blankets, becoming swallowed by the darkness.

The sun comes out, and the pain is fresh but old,

I am used to it now, I have to comfort others who are feeling it for the first time.

I am old enough to fully understand and to lose hope that things will ever change.

Pills continue to be popped, needles hidden, happiness destroyed.

Each lie signifies each heart that has been broken, be it by overdose, by pain,

or by 3 A.M. fights.

Addiction. I want it gone.

 

 

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