I tell my dad I can’t go back,
Moms place breaks me down.
Fights that echo,
Words that cut too deep,
A storm that never ends.

I’m tired,
Mentally, emotionally drained by the same old  battles that never find an end.

But when I ask him to stay longer, to just give me a little more time where I can breath,
But it’s too much to ask.
He shrugs, says,
“I can’t do much, I’m trying me best, but me and her. We need time too.”
And just like that I’m stuck between a home that feels like a cage and another that won’t open its doors wide enough.

Moms apartment isn’t home,
It’s walls too small,
A  room I have to share,
A silence filled with tension.
Dad’s place still holds my memories, my quiet corners, my space to be me.
But even there, I’m not free to stay as long as I need.

I hate going back to her.

But I’m not allowed to stay here.
And in this in-between,
I’m losing pieces of myself that no one notices

because it’s easier to pass me along
That to hold me close.