Family Made of Glass


There’s always talk of moving

Always the possibility of leaving

Packing a bag and never looking back

There’s always that glimmer of hope that sparks inside of me,

But a skeptical shadow over powers everything,

I know we’ll be here for the rest of our lives,

Rotting and ruining in this broken down house,

Cracks and creaks in the floors and broken doors,

The stains on the stove and the tears in the couch,

We will stay here and dream of escaping

Until we all realize that our family is much like this torn home,

Miserable and filled with resent,

We will crumble, piece by piece,

Until there is absolutely nothing left

But broken glass and hurtful last words.


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