Winter in a broken home

In the morning, she cries
Her mother yells to get her out of bed
when she\'s trying to salvage
the fading images of her dreams
and the feeling of the blankets
around her

In the afternoon, she cringes
watching her father slam doors,
hearing him yell
And she steps into the hot bathwater
burning new wounds
on her arms and legs

At night, she is broken
curled up in her room,
after another run-in with her brother
she is battered and bruised
The cold air is refreshing to her frail body
And it seems the wind blowing the trees
Sings her song of fear and sorrow
Attempting not to make a sound,
she slips under the blankets,
drifting once more into unconsciousness
Prepared to do it again the next day