It could be worse

August 7, 2008
By kateryna belyaeva, Huntington, NY

Voices cracking, like windows in a house
So much yelling and screaming as if it were a football game.
So many tears shed that any drought could have been put to an end.
The word love does not exist here.
Here it is cold like the arctic.
Pain expressed through tears and secretive writing.
The tears never stop because the pain never numbs.
Who will be the one to fix this broken home?
This broken family...
This broken girl.

The author's comments:
I was inspired to write this poem by my personal experiences, which have not been easy. Growing up with a single mother who immigrated here with two kids not knowing the language has not been a stroll in the park for me and my family. My mothers will to survive here in a way has torn our family apart. Which is what this poem is about.

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