The shards of glass shatter across the counter.

Shards fly, glistening in the light, reflecting my inner darkness, and piercing my skin.

Rage flows through my blood and blocks the striking pain.

My mother cowers in fear, placing a chair between us.

My dog, screaming at me, my brother crying in the corner.

I’m a longing nuclear bomb, I just want to explode, erupting into a fiery ball of rage that shines bright enough to blind the gods.

I take another glass and hurl it against the wall like a baseball.

The glass shatters, as if mimicking my soul.

I’m alone, hurt, enraged and frightened all at once.

My mind may never know rest and my soul, no comfort.

I keep telling her. “2% Milk!”

She never listens

They never do.