My life is finally shattering.
Smashing to the ground
in a billion tiny little
sharp pieces.

Everyone's leaving me.
And I'm here.
Crying.
Alone.

Asking myself where I am.
Where are you now?
I'm left alone.
Everyone's gone.

When a house burns,
all that's left is ashes.
When a family burns,
all that's left in ashes.

All that's left
in my life
is a pile
of ashes.

And I sit here like
a baby, crying
myself
to sleep.

Because that's the way I am,
right? That's the way
I was raised.
Alone, crying myself to sleep.

Such an innocent child,
my precious niece, five years old,
subjected to daddy leaving
and finding mommy almost dead.

"It's okay, baby girl.
Mama's home now and
daddy still loves you.
Auntie Riah loves you."

"I love you aunt Riah.
Pretty soon everything
will be happy
again."

The words of a five year old,
are strong enough
to make me fall the the ground
on my knees in utter pain.

I wish I had forgotten.
Forgotten who specific people
were.
Maybe it'd be better that way.

Maybe I would hurt the way I do,
feel the abandonment I do.
Maybe she'd be better off,
maybe the world would be better off.

All of my scars were instantly bleeding,
Jake was out of his grave,
I was screaming.
"Jake! Save me! Jake!"

He was dead. But there.
"Mariah, I can't stay."
But he took me in his arms
and held me.

All of my cuts were healed,
all of my scars were gone.
And I was able to cry
as my boy held me again.

But then he disappeared,
and I woke up,
tears streaming down
my face.

It's truly
a terrible
life.