Family is a mess
Old, broken and archaic
A typhoon of disorder,
And a whirlwind made of chaos.

It spins around you horribly,
Throwing fits and words,
A tornado that made you Dorothy,
And being Dorothy hurt.

Over the rainbow and forgotten,
Pushed away from all the mess,
That is what you thought you wanted,
But you still miss their distress.

So you tapped and stomped and slammed your heels,
But you’ll never be home again,
And the pain of that alone hurts more
than any storm or word unsaid.

Now your world is twisted, odd, and strange,
And you struggle all by yourself.
Because your whirlwind’s gone away
And there’s no chaos here to help.

Now you wish you had no heart,
Because yours is hurting something awful.
And you wish you had no brain,
Because the one you have is getting hostile.

You’re angry and you blame them,
For pushing you away,
You blame yourself for all this mayhem,
For not choosing there to stay.

Because in your pain-filled heart,
And in that angry brain,
Is just a coward full of want
To see her family again.