growing up

How loud can the voices get, I wonder still, Their echoes haunting my lost innocence, A symphony of chaos, a bitter pill, Their piercing cries, my heartache's recompense. How long should I keep destroying myself, To mend the fractures of a broken home, Bearing the burden, a forsaken elf, In this relentless tempest that's my own. I'm but a child, exhausted and worn thin, By pressures far beyond my tender years, This weight, too heavy for my fragile skin, Bruised by the anguish, drowned in silent tears. I'm trying, yet the tide pulls me away, Dying inside, my spirit's slow decay. I cry out, breaking under the strain, But why are my flaws the only highlight? In seeking solace, I'm left with disdain, Surrounded by darkness, abandoned in plight. How can those I cherish betray my trust, When all I long for is their warm embrace? Their knives, like daggers, wounds me in disgust, Leaving me shattered in this empty space. Love's sweet embers, now reduced to ashes, Vanished companions, gone without a trace. But still, amid these sorrow-laden clashes, I rise, emerging from this bleak maze. How loud can the voices get, I ponder, Yet resilience and hope shall be my conjurer.