The floor is covered in broken glass because, once again, she has forgotten who I am. Angry, I try to pick up the pieces and once again it ends with bloodied hands. It doesn’t help her when I get upset, but sometimes I need to because I can’t…
I can’t…
I! … Can’t! … Stand-it!
How can I not think that god is cruel…
How can I not think that god is cruel…
When every day I sit and watch her lose another piece of who she used to be!

I scream… No one listens!
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