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Needles on the dresser, pipes in your hands, 
Chaos as the soundtrack to a childhood undone. 
Screams that hurt my ears, objects thrown and broken, tears on faces. 
When I think of my childhood, instead of being greeted by the warm and the good, though there was plenty. 
These are the memories that my brain has sent to me. 

Peeking through cracked doors, 
Too young to see, too old to ignore.
You thought that you could shield me with a slam, 
But where was that shield when you told me instead? 
Trying to turn me against the other, to use your child to hurt. 
But your plan failed as you showed me the errors in yourselves. 
I didn’t understand the chemistry of this thing called meth, 
But I did see what you did, and I remember the pain and fear that it brewed. 

In the living room, I become the wall. 
Pushing my sisters into the safety I won’t allow myself to go. 
Standing in the middle of your storm. 
Fists flew, tears fell, words burned. 
You love each other, you and I know, so where do these hateful words grow?

You’re back again from jail, I cling to you, tightly, as I silently wail. 
I’m too afraid to let you go, because love is a fragile tether in a life that I barely know. 

Then came the words that shatter my world, 
Grandma’s voice breaking as my head is in a whirl. 
“Something’s wrong with Nacole!” she screamed in despair, 
And suddenly, the air felt too heavy to bear. 
“She’s dead!” 
My world is ripped apart, a permanent wound on my heart. 

Grief fresh, I ask myself what comes next? 
A loud thud in the bathroom. 
“Dad? Dad? Dad!”
You’re on the floor when I open the door. 
An overdose, of course it was an overdose. 
A month since I lost my mom, and now this with you. 
Twelve years old, carrying a weight far too heavy,
Living in a world where love feels unsteady. 
I was just a kid, though aged beyond my years. 
Do you know how I swallowed my screams and drowned in my tears?

Grandma gives you a choice, 
“Drugs or your children,” her had-enough voice. 
You chose us, finally, finally chose us. 
But the scars remain, etched deep in trust. 

These memories shaped me, 
For better, for worse. 
They made me scared of pills, 
But sure of their worth. 
They taught me to cherish what’s here, what’s now, 
Because life is fragile, fleeting, always, somehow. 

I’ve learned to stand on my own two feet, 
To love, but never let love deplete. 
To be strong, to care, to lead when I can, 
To know that sometimes the child becomes the adult in the span. 

I shouldn’t have lived this story, 
But it’s the one that I own. 
A childhood interrupted, 
Yet, I have grown.
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