TW: Cussing

I dropped something, bent down low,
in the bathroom where time seemed slow.
Just as I reached for what had slipped,
the door swung open, almost clipped.

My hand shot out, instincts fast,
to stop the door from making a crash.
It closed too soon, my brother's cry,
foot hurt, tears falling from his eye.

Dad stormed in, his voice a roar,
blaming me as he slammed the door.
No time for truth, no space to speak,
his words cut deep, sharp and bleak.

Later, brushing teeth, I stepped outside,
his anger waiting, nowhere to hide.
Name after name, the hurt poured down,
and every word just made me drown.

No room for answers, no space to say
what really happened, my side that day.
He stood for my brother, but not for me,
in his eyes, it's always my fault, can't he see?

So here I am, another tear-filled night,
swallowed by family's endless fight.
Crying myself to sleep once more,
their bullshit heavy, impossible to ignore.