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This is the beginning a story based off of a poem my friends wrote for school. It's really depressing, but I hope you like it.

         The clouds were low. Each drop of rain seemed to be my own tear; for how could the world not mourn when I had just lost everything? I never had much. But looking back now, I see that I had more than I could ever wish to have.

        My parents may have wanted me to turn out differently, but they loved me all the same. My little sister was gone. She was six. It was my duty to protect her, and I couldn't even do that. My older brother has left me. He can't protect me anymore.

        The pouring rain made my black hair heavy, my dark make-up drip down my cheeks, my dark clothing that is normal for me even darker. The rain was the weight of the world coming down on my shoulders. I was alone with no one to help me hold it up. It was too much. The grief, the guilt, the pure sorrow that squeezed my heart. I couldn't hold the weight anymore, I had no more energy left me this. I stumbled, and a hand as pale as mine caught me.

       I looked up to see the face of the one who stopped me from falling; and the one that would continue to keep me from falling. It was like looking up into the face of an angel. The one face that wasn't looking at me with hate.