A Look Inside of The Madness [Poems]

The Tree House

Walking down the road.

The only light

comes from

the street lamps

overhead.

People glare at me

out their

glowing front windows.

People with

perfect lives;

their families

unbroken.

They want nothing

to do with

like me.

It's midnight now.

I reach the

great oak tree.

The moss feels

squishy and

moist against

my hands.

I come here

every night now.

This used to be

our tree house.

We pretended

we were

princesses.

Both from

broken families,

but our

hearts remained

intact.

I used to come

out here and

sleep, when the

screaming

would never

stop.

Now that you're

gone,

they took our castle away.

Where am

I to go

now

when the

fighting

doesn't

stop?