I heard shouts & loud noises downstairs.
I went down, only to see orange & pears
Scattered on the floor,
Along with broken plates & an open door.
They’ve been fighting again, I can tell.
From how my mother wailed
To our house looking like hell.
Yeah, talking calmly surely failed.
They’ve been like this for so long
That I can’t help but ask:
Isn’t fighting supposed to be wrong?
Yet why is it a part of their daily task?
Now I’m stuck with a question I can’t answer:
What is a family?
Is it about love & loyalty?
Or is it about hatred & fear?
Is it about fighting in front of your child?
Is it about pointing fingers on who’s right & wrong
& disregarding the little one all the while?
Or is it about leaving the kids alone?
Is it about your dad punching the table
So hard that it bore a hole?
While your mother is shouting like a fool
& you’re trembling, yet they don’t mind you at all?
Is it about finding out your dad had an affair
& all of you found out from a neighbor?
Is it about having a sister
That got so depressed she almost hanged her neck in the air?
I don’t know what is a family anymore.
With everything I’ve seen,
My parent’s quarrels, their fight scenes,
Maybe a family is dysfunctional after all.