Lost Voices

I sit at the dinner table.

My food untouched.

A spotlight on me.

You were yelling for almost 10 minutes now.

Going on and on

about anorexia.

You yell. I try t walk away.

You keep yelling,

grabbing my arm.

I stare at you.

A billion retorts ringing

in my head.

My mother,

who complains about my father,

who complains about me.

One day you say;

"You and me are a lot alike"

now your telling me we're not.

Now we're bonding.

The day you hold a pretty necklace,

and ask me what I think,

I say its nice

without even looking up.

Tears sting my eyes,

while you yell.

But my ears are muffled. My head stuffed with cotton.

I need to speak what's on my mind.

Am I allowed to?

Fear holds me back.

I feel my arm aching.

I pull it away from her hands that were once soft,

but now feels

like knives.

I run into my room,

lock the door.

And I cant wait

for the day

I'll be brave enough

to speak the retorts in my head, that lost their vices.