A House Divided

I was five the first time I heard my parents fight,Their tongues forking lightning in flippant tones.Even now I can hear the resounding booms that shook our home,And people wonder why I’m terrified of thunderstorms. I was nine the first time the word divorce snuck its way past my lips.I remember hating its heavy weight on my tongue;It tasted like floral perfume;The kind you wear to funerals. I’m seventeen now,A walking hypocrisy if you’ve ever met one.When people ask me why my car is so messy,I tell them that I live there more than either house,That the radio sounds more welcoming than the doorbell     that I keep forgetting that I don’t have to ring anymore. I’ve driven so far and so fast that sometimes I forget that I’ve forgotten how to fly,And how much I envy birds.Not because they can go everywhere,But because they can be anywhere but here. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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