The family portrait falls to the ground

The glass breaks into a million shards

Dad stood there drinking his beer complaining that he lives, complaining that he belongs to us

Mom erupted blaming everyone but herself

Brother sat there angry cursing the world, hoping to be like his father

Little Sister sat there confused and scared for the blame incorrectly placed upon her

I go to pick it up and piece it back together

The glass is sharp

My hand gets sliced open

I hesitate

It stings

It bleeds

It throbs

I stare at the cut engraved on my hand

I'm handed a bandaid that will only temporarily last

Mom glues the portrait back together

I bleed through the bandaid 

The portrait gets knocked over again

It breaks

It gets glued back together and put back in the exact same place

I prepare for it to shatter once more