"toy" box

Yelling. Screaming. Hatred. All the mean words, the dirty looks, seem to resonate within my brain. My small light of hope and happiness has nearly been engulfed by the bleak cloud that is my life. Sure, its not terrible, but I'm constantly tormented by the feeling I don't belong. Slowly I remove my "toy" box from beneath my bed. With trembling fingers I lift the lid and inhale sharply at the sight. Its all there. The razor sharp knife, cold and gleaming. The small revolver, loaded with one fatal bullet. The beautifully braided rope, the perfect length. And last, but not least, the colorful assortment of pills, sure to end my pathetic life. Oh! What a magnificent sight! I handle each "toy" with a loving touch as they all vie for my attention. Each begging for me to pick them. But I pick none-for now. The madness is receding. The deadly thirst is quenched. Gently I replace the lid and put my toy box back under my bed. Where it will rest until another dark day