I didn't grow up in a broken home, but I wish I had. It would've been better than living with tape on our faces, tapping a smile to our face, nails, holding close the voice of our hearts, newspaper feeling up the empty space of somones presence. It all holds up just fine until it's the holiday's or someone's birthday,then it all hits. Everyone is breaking each other, the tape has fallen off and the smiles turn into frowns followed by some type of mental break down.It's the moments we look around and notice that one parent everyone we dont. In a broken home they have it figured it out, but this home is just holding up with tape, nails, and newspaper, and one day it won't be enough.