Angry voices – a sonnet

I heard the angry voices from next door;
it chilled the broken pieces of my heart.
My parents used to fight through
pain, sickness, twisted love. Our simple part
to hide our heads in shame. You slammed
the door to make a point; the point
was lost inside our brains; we’re blamed
for each and every word. You coined
the damning phrase— “if you loved me.”
Though long ago the broken shards
grind in this lump of flesh within me,
those words cut sharp as playing cards.

She screamed at him; I clutched my core.
I heard the angry voices from next door.

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