poem - "family portrait"

family portrait. 

I saw a picture of a house placed on the fridge.

Green grass, blue skies, white home.

Crayon on A4, and a bright pink for mother,

She’s clutching her holy tome,

Beside a blue blob that I think is stepfather,

He has his name scrawled on top of his head,

Just in case the artist forgot.

My brothers are placed by one another,

But one has a golden halo, and mother looks his way.

My sisters are the same, but one is barely drawn,

She’s moved on, while the other toddles about.

I spot myself in the middle, in ugly black crayon.

Standing out, completely unnoticed - different

To the other colourful stick figures.

I hold a trumpet-shaped flower in my hands, 

drawn with such care, I realise I cared quite a bit,

About the flower. 

I spot where my friends were supposed to be in the

picture. Soft, lilac splotches in the corner. One has

red crayon over his eyes- I don’t know what that

Means, but I still place a flower in his hands, too.

I rip the picture off the fridge, glancing around.

I scrunch it in my hands. I stomp it on the ground.

Moisten it with the earth, before tossing it in the bin.

I throw out the black crayon too.

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i am a bit tired so i won't write much about the poem... but: its essentially a very fancy way of me talking abt my family :D