Description: i was always frustrated when i was little. because i wanted to die, but that would upset my mom so i couldnt, and i wanted to run away, but then i wouldnt be with mom, so i couldnt. and then mom died. and ive finally found the courage to leave. its so freeing i cant even explain it.
I was laying on the couch
And I knew I should try to sleep,
But instead, I stared at the cobwebs
On the ceiling, swaying in the air
From the fan propped up on a chair.
And when I heard you coming
Down the stairs I thought it
Would be funny to attack you.
So I hid behind the stairs
And when you found the last step,
I jumped out and used a couch cushion
As a weapon, giggling hysterically.
You picked me up and play wrestled me,
But you let me win, and made me think
I was stronger than you .
We always woke dad up,
From our screeches and laughter,
So he would stomp down the stairs
Shouting at the top of his lungs.
I would scramble back into bed and
Pretended to sleep, and soon after
I would slip into a sweet coma-sleep,
Tears from laughing still wet on my face.
Now im laying on the couch
And you stumble over to me,
Not sure who I am. Not caring.
I see the twisted sick thoughts in your eyes
And I tell you to leave me alone,
But you think im joking,
And you say things that make me nauseous
And start reaching for me,
So I shriek at you, ďIm your sisterĒ
And I shove you away, but you still donít know
Whats going on , so you shove me back
And try to punch me, because you think its funny,
That im so small and thatís im really terrified.
This isnít play wrestling like when we were kids,
This is how you fight, when your not sure
If you would live, if you were to lose.
And dad isnít here to yell at us
Like were just playing, heís miles away, oblivious.
So I shove with all my strength,
And I donít know if you fell or not
Because im already on the street.
I run until my feet hit sand,
A mile away, and I stare at the waves,
Begging God to let me die. After
An hour, I realize my feet are torn up,
Bleeding from running barefoot.
But I donít care even slightly,
Until I have to walk home hours later,
Limping along, wondering if I should,
Just give up and curl up in someones
Bushes to sleep, or a back tool shed.
I hate myself for it, but I go home,
And sneak up stairs, to collapse in bed
And fall into a coma-sleep,
Tears of frustration still wet on my face.
Again, spelling errors such as "that's" when it's supposed to be "that" b/c an "is" is not implied. I am (hopefully) a future English teacher so I'm very aware of them.
I honestly don't know what to say. I can't help you make this piece better even if there's anything to improve. I can't even begin to comment at this time. I think I need a few days to absorb it all completely, study it and suck all of the emotion out of it. I hope that this piece never dies on me from my eager devouring. It certainly won't be forgotten. :)
If I never comment on this piece again, then it must be that I am unable to do so for a multitude of reasons.
However, in your description, you spoke of your mother, and yet, in the second part of the piece, you say "I'm your sister." Do you mean daughter?
I've never read anything quite like this before. I thought the imagery was great all the way through, and the way you arranged it just worked so well - one line sinks in...then the next...then the next...
I liked how it was written in plain English, so that it's simple and yet it had such depth. I pretty much liked every line. My favourite bit would have to be: "But instead I stared at the cobwebs on the ceiling".