I have lived most of my life with only one try scar, a silver vase in my living room, and sometimes i wonder if i could have stopped it. if i could have been a better brother, a better friend... but my scars are nothing compared to the broken fragile mind of a soul who has been abused by a broken family, and raped by a stranger that seemed nice, or of a even more broken soul who is abused screamed at called names witch no one should be called, lowering their self esteem making them hate them self just because they made a few mistakes, but little dose the family know that the kid they call names and push away has been bulled and put into a abusive relationship trying to find out why no one loves them, so broken to the point where when someone dose care they can not trust them, can not let them in to there life. slowly making the miniscule thread snap from the cuts on there body that is self inflicted from the hate that everyone else makes them feel for them self's. "I'm nothing", "i am too low for anyone to love me", even though my brother is in a vase in my living room, i can not try to act like i need pity and for people to feel bad when my best friends are basically ending there own life's because of a there broken family's, the bullies that never stop and keep pushing no matter how low it seems, and there past relationships full of abuse and neglect. meanwhile i can do nothing but sit and watch as my friends fade away from the world, my words meaning nothing and my voice never being heard, the only reason they are still here is because death is a choice that no one but the broken can make, i am sad to say. my friends are almost broken and i don't know how to fix them...
By doomguy
