Happy Families

My mother and father used to fight,

day in day out,

about stupid things that don’t count

in this game we’re all playing,

Happy Familes.

My team was always losing.

But then one day mum came home crying,

and dad stopped laughing at the picture box

(he switched it off),

they talked a lot, about marriage,

I thought.

But it wasn’t, it was her work.

(thank god?)

It’s shit (she says).

The people are shit (she yells).

My life’s a fucking mess (she screams)

I think she’s gonna quit.

But she hasn’t yet.

And I know what’s holding her back,

it’s dad.

Their relationship is back on track

from bonding over the people that

mum hates (like shit) at her god damn work.

But she’s a fraud

manipulating misery for empty talk

when she’s bored.

And dad just laps it up,

like the shit on the box,

while I’m falling through the breeze

(it’s not carrying me- you said I’d be free)

evaporating like chalk

from hollow notes and hollow words

from the teacher’s talk

about some word games

she says are fun,

but I’m busy

screwing a different one.