By: Claire Cao
I’m hungry but I can’t go downstairs.
My stomach rumbles loud,
But not as loud as the screams in my ear.
The shouts are long gone,
Yet the echoes still ring.
They suffocate my thoughts,
Never-ending, forever on repeat.
Why can nobody else hear?
It’s always raining downstairs.
There is no shelter to protect me,
There is nothing I can do.
How can a little girl like me build a roof?
I just watch the oceans flow in,
Salty streams running down my face.
Tidal waves wash me away,
Drowning me in a bottomless sea.
There’s only a tightrope downstairs.
One wrong step,
And it’s a long way down.
I walk on eggshells made from shards of glass,
Each fracture piercing my skin.
Even though the cups are in their cabinets,
Glass keeps shattering,
Over and over, like a broken record.
No, there is too much danger downstairs.
Too many blood-curdling shrieks,
Too many rivers of tears,
Too many broken pieces,
Of what was once home.