Pounding, Ripping, Torn

It's quarter to eight As I am sliding out of bed When I hear a strange noise That's unnaturally said. It sounds like something ripping Something has been torn. The noise is growing louder. The rips becoming more. I peek into each room Where all my family sleeps. Searching for the tearing That's pounding a nice beat. Everyone is quiet Deep in restful sleep. So i creep on down the staircase In search of whatever noise there be. I tiptoe through the living room Eyes looking all around. Moving to the kitchen I stumble, then catch myself. The noise is still there Disturbing the silence left from night. I poke my head into the room Where we eat dinner every night. The sound that awakened me Is still ripping, still not found. I slowly turn the knob To the depths of my house. I switch on the light Brightening the dreary morn. The tearing is louder still But no source I have found. So when I looked into the mirror I saw something unfound. There was a girl in there Unkempt and unsound. Her hair was like a nest Made by birds who couldn't care less. And her face was blotchy and pink Caused by restless sleep. Her makeup once carefully applied And rested beautifully on her face, Was now smeared and tear-stained Looking like a raccoon after a race. She raised her hand high And lay it where her heart was placed. Then found to her surprise Where the pestering noise lay. That's when I remembered When my heart first broke. It had started to tear Just the night before. I was alone at the playground Swinging as high as I could. When someone came and stopped me They told me that I should. Then they told the story Of how my love wanted me no more. I didn't argue one bit. Or even put up a fight. I just looked at them, then walked away Silent and alone in the night. And now here I am, Reliving a memory of spite.