by Bre’Ann
I’m an emotional wreck. Crying is my only good coping skill, not having a mother to cry on or a father I can run to. My sister is gone with the wind. My brother is gone with my freedom. As I stare at my public place of punishment, punishment is my only hope for freedom. Being a highly sophisticated, intelligent, emotionally mature, lonely, and ripped up failure. I see what I have become and it’s not exactly helping my emotions.
My mother went to a better place when I was 12 and I got separated from my lovely twin, Paradise.
My name stares at me as I write this paper but the only thing I see is the words failure, and as I stare back at the name Bre’Ann I feel the salty sting of tears come.