A world of broken emotions
Scattered across the ground
Here I am picking up the pieces
Of me as I shed one too many
Tears of tarnished sorrow
At last, I think I have gotten
To the last few pieces of my life
As I struggle to hold the rest
In my unwavering arms of strength
And virtue, holding on tight
And then my family starts toppling
Over, pieces of my father scattered
All about, while my mother is completely
Sprinkled through out the place
Unable to mend herself together
////My mother gets up to get
herself a glass of water
"What are you doing?" My father asks, a slight bit of annoyance heard in his voice.
"I am getting something to drink." My mother replied as she pours water into her glass. She takes a seat, back at the table, and adds further more, "I don't want to be like my sister Melissa and ask everyone to do things for me."
"You know your sister didn't ask anyone to help her kill herself, now did she?" My father replies in a vain sarcastic voice.
"Dad that was uncalled for. That is no way to be joking about a situation like that." I had jumped to defend my mom as she started to slightly tremble...a tear forming in her eye.
We were just sitting down for dinner at the kitchen table. Everyone was happy as can be.
////An argument breaks loose, as my father stands up, agitation overcame his actions like leopracy.

I run to help my mother gather
herself together, struggling to
hold my own pieces as well
I run to my father grabbing
pieces of him, helping him to
gather his pieces also
He begins to throw his pieces of
life at me, slowly knocking my
pieces as though he didn't care
my pieces that I worked so hard
and so long for, to place them
back where they belong, are
scattered on the ground again
I kneel down to retrieve my stray
bundles of life when another piece
hits me in the back of the head
making me fall on my face, losing
every vital scrap that I had in my
arms, slowly drifting away
A dry tear slips down my face
as my world fades to black
right before me, leaving me alone
in this desolate hell that I strived
so long to stay away from, consuming
my breath and taking me hostage
my mother continues to lay in pieces
while my father continues to throw
his pieces of his puzzle, that he didn't
want back, at me
I find myself wanting to run away
from the pain that resonates my
scars with stinging agony
And yet somehow I know I am
stronger than the both of them
Who knew I would be left fending
for myself as my father beat me to my
grave?
I am stuck in a household that
can't handle life's instances of
depression, when someone like
me has been battling it all my life.
No one was ever there to wipe my tears away

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