A poem: For Lamb

There's me.

And then there is you.

worlds apart in sense of being

yet as close as a fingernail we seem.

A friendship built on nothing worth seeing.

Just clouds and skates and water fights.

Just make-shift adverts and

dances on the landing.

A sister, an extra, a family member for sure.
For i can talk to you whilst on the loo
and not bother with the door.

I can tell you the things that i dont want to hear myself.

Because it feels like you've already seen them,

jolting nervously from my left ear to the right.

you to me are a flower to a bee.
A glove to a hand and an amp to the band.
Essential to my happiness i need you in my life.

A soul sistah. Because our friendship means more than substance.

Its air.

Its vital.

Its that of soul sistahs'.

Broken home

i come from a broken home. Your parents dont need to be divorced for your home to be broken. Your parents just need to argue constantly, want to make your life misserable and achieve it for it to be broken. My parents dont even work together to make my life suck, when the mother has a hold of something my dad just agrees with her. Disfunctional or what. A broken home is when the place you used to call a sanctuary before times, turns into the place you wish you wernt there.
My broken home is the place i wish was the same as it used to be, full of laughter and smiles, and the occasional banter between siblings. Today its stacked with arguments and screaming and me wanting to end it all. Wholesome or not.

Yesterday the year 8's recieved their reports. I heard them walking out of my next classroom and they were talking about the names written on the front. One said how her parents were given the same last name even though they were divorced. Another talked about how hers were written properly with the different names, then all of a sudden there were a group of them talking as plain a cheese about how the school had either written the names correct or not on their reports regarding their parents divorced. It shocked me to find children as young as 13 talking about parents being split up as if it was commen. And thats whan it hit me. It is common.

It saddens me to hear that there are so many children that live between houses and find this normal. And here i am bitching about MY broken home.