Caged

Suffocation

The feeling of being suffocated;

Stuck.

Not loud.

Not violent.

Just constant.

Not what others consider scary,

But it is for me

I hate feeling stuck,

I hate feeling suffocated,

Under my parents' controlling law

I am told this is care.

That one day I'll understand

Why everything had to be this way.

Suffocation---

A word I use often

Especially when I refer to them

Trapped.

Stuck.

Suffocated.

Stuck---

In a place where leaving is considered ungrateful,

And wanting space is mistaken for rejection.

A place they call home---a word that fits their mouths easily.

Where I learned the shape of the walls.

Where I never learned how to leave---only how to call it a cage

I carry the weight of not hurting people

Who never seem afraid of hurting me.

It's a strange skill to develop---

This instinct to cushion every fall

With your own body.

I know it's dramatic.

But talking to my parents, going anywhere,

Even trying to have a life of my own,

It's like... Walking on sharp glass---Legos even.

I rehearse my sentences like a play

Hoping to god I'm good enough,

And yet still messing up,

Making mistakes

I rehearse my sentences

So they don't bruise feelings that they don't share

Somehow it seems I'm the only one to care,

They always say things that cut without thinking.

And still I flinch, I absorb what they say, silently without another though, to avoid another fight,

Because thats what I'm good at; sitting there and taking it. Silently.

Caring comes naturally to me,

I wish it didn't.

Sometimes I feel as if smiling is the only thing I can do.

I have to soften the impact.

The impact of existing, too much, too loudly.

I'm told I'm loud,

But I'm loud on the instances when I'm happy---or trying to be.

I'm told that even when I'm quiet, I'm loud.

When I'm sad, that "It's that damn phone."

Living with my parents is like being young

And circling a porcelain vase,

Ready to shatter at any moment.

One wrong move and... Snap.