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