Shattered

Some things are too broken to be fixed.
The child weeps as she sees her father
Drunken and mad.
He swings his arms, takes up her china doll.
Eyes red, panting, he throws it on the floor
Stomping his foot on the doll's head.
With a crack, the doll's head splits
Into a million pieces.
Her mother intervenes. 
"Don't. Please."
The father is angry.
He takes a painted-glass vase, the family relic,
And shatters it, too.
Then, he leaves.
Leaving the mother 
Picking up the shattered glass
Blood trickling down her pale, smooth hands
Like crimson ink.
Leaving the girl
Crying 
Over her doll
Which will never be fixed.