The phone rings.

She hesitates, then answers.

It’s always him.

Tears streak her face as she paces,

Unaware I’m watching from the stairs.

Her soft cries echo in the quiet room.

I smile, trying to replace the sadness he brings.

For twenty years, I’ve cleaned up your mess,

Striving to be the perfect daughter,

Filling the voids you left behind.

I was taught to give—

And I gave until there was nothing left of me.

Now, at twenty-four, I’m empty,

A shell of who I could have been.

I was their hope, their joy,

But it cost me my own.

I lost my childhood to your chaos,

Grew up too fast,

Trying to make up for all you took.

You were twenty— I was four.

Now you’re forty, and still draining us,

Still lost.

I don’t want to care anymore,

Don’t want to pick up after you.

You made me miss so much.

I can’t forgive you—

Never a brother, always a stranger.