Asleep next to me is my sister.
She's curled in a fetal position,
     knees to her chest. 
She lies unmoving,
     yet completely restless. 
Her breath is ragged,
     she jumps in her sleep
Her heart is torn in five,
     with an ice shard forming deep.

Asleep in the room nearby is my brother
He sleeps like a soldier,
     straight and stiff.
His legs lay still, eyes shut tight.
His mind looping on a riff.
His mind is racing with LEGO's and lollies
Nothing else, looping the past. 
The shell of a teen covering a child
That grew up too fast.

Asleep in the room across the house
     is my father. 
He sleeps like a rock,
    in every sense of the word. 
He sounds like a broken, drowned foghorn
Booming, choking, wet, hurt. 
Swimming in his mind is terror after terror
Nothing was more frightening,
     for him, than
Facing his own errors.

I sit in my bed, awake and unflinching.
My legs ache, my arms were not lifting. 
The only things you can hear are my fingertips
Racing to get these words down.
In a vain attempt to make his snoring stop
In a vain attempt to calm my shaking sister
In a vain attempt to shake sense into my brother
In a vain attempt to feel useful. 

My mum lies in a bed, a hundred miles from us
She isn't alone, but she isn't unhappy. 
She sits in bed, her partner already passed out
Thinking she is a good person
Thinking her leaving was a good choice
Thinking her choice was the best
Granted it was the best choice
Only for her, not the rest. 

I'm lying down in my bed, eyelids drooping. 
Mr. Sandman should soon come by, swooping. 
Amber-rose light faded to black,
and dreams soon filled my vision. 

Awake in a field is m sister, smiling
She has animals all around her,
     squealing and grunting. 
She patted each one, giggling with a smirk.
And not a single part of her shivered
     or quirked. 

Awake on a soccer field is my dad, lively. 
His breath was clear as day,
     rich & firey. 
He smelled of pine, sawdust and hard work
He embraced his mistakes
     and turned them into perks. 

I sat awake with a pen and a book
Leaning back on a sycamore tree.
I wrote down how they each were feeling
Feeling useful, feeling free. 

Then, when I awoke,
The pen and the book faded. 
My sister's animals revoked,
     clawing at her skin, purple and red. 
My brother sat up, wordless, mute. 
Getting us to feed him, to dress him
     salute. 
My dad rose with an ache in his throat
His head as messy as his closet,
     his feelings hanging in a coat. 

I take in a deep breath,
     the air like steam. 
One day, someday, not today,
The dreams I have will not be dreams
but instead, our reality. 

- We're torn up.