because it's you, it's always been you
and you know it and i know it and
everybody else fucking knows it.
(except never mind they don't, not here,
they can't know here because i,
i ran away from all that
and i kept it all inside this time.)
"and it's your fault. it's all your fault your fault,
your goddamned motherfucking fault."
you can blame me, daddy,
but that doesn't change the fact that it was
who came home ugly/drunk/angry,
shouting and breaking christmas decorations.
and nothing can fix the fact
that it was you, stone-cold sober,
sneaking into my room at night,
leaving me broken and bitter.
(she's too young to be so old.)