My family is the house burning at the end of the street,
Ignited by my own struggles and failures.
We're all running for our own safe, sandy shorelines.
My dad is the book case,
Quickly burned, ruined, and forgotten about.
My mom is the concrete foundation, getting charred and battered,
Still somehow strong enough to carry us through the blaze.
My brother is the living room window, shattering into a million separate pieces,
Yet shining brighter then ever before in those little glass shards.
My "Sister" is the smoke alarm that saved my life
As I watched everything catch into a sweltering wall of fear.
I am the match that ignited the flame to burn my world to nothing but ashes
Which float in the bitter, smoke-clogged breeze
Used up
Overlooked by so many.