I walk inside, for it is a bite I seek.

First up.

Yet last to eat.

I take my seat at the table.

The mood seems to be quite not stable.

Mother is asking dad.

Who I might add.

Is boiling mad.

My lime green eyes watch my father close, he is full of anger and spite. Mad at the world he was toiled upon for years, spiteful towards all those, who dare to dream.

I've grown used to the silence, the yelling and the abuse. Though this morning is not like the others, his anger is not centered on me, but upon Marble who can't defend against such a rampage.

Marble has asked for the week off.

Her silent frame gazing into the stone soup before her.

Her body is calm.

But eyes filled with qualm.

She wishes to visit our sister in pink.

Father says no!

We have a business to keep.

Miles to go, before we can sleep.

She will swing a pickaxe, through the week.

Even if she must do so, while she weeps.

There is no time to party and play!

We are grown mares.

It is our duty, to work all day!

I can see a tear roll off into the soup.

Marble broken.

Another shattered youth.

"Work and no play?" I scoff across the table to my father, eyes glowing darkly with the blaze of hellfire.

"Young lady! What did you say?" He narrowed those cold icy eyes, locking onto my own in a stern glare.

"I say."

"Work and no play!" I snap aloud in a sarcastic hiss.

"Finish ye soup!" his hooves smash onto the table in a large thud.

"Ye have work today!" his words stung far more than any lashing.

"Marble is just a weak link!" I calmed my words, a dark plan forming within my mind.

"Hay if I must be honest." Eyes cast over my little sister coldly.

"She just plain stinks!"

"I pull twice as much rocks, in a day." I scoff with a flaunt of a hoof.

"Than she in a week!" I made sure to gaze towards father, my words filled with swagger.

"I can never hear her."

"She is far too meek!" I moan aloud in annoyance, eyes rolling with anger.

"I waste time as I must push her around."

"Her pickaxe you see." My hooves point across the room, towards her tool of destruction left beside the backdoor.

"Has barely shattered the ground!"

"I say let that weakling go!" I hiss with spite, my glance resting upon my frail sister.

"I can hold down the farm."

"This I can see, you know." I lock eyes with father, our cold hallow stares at a stand still.

"Meek is weak."

"Silent and slow." Each word stabbing into my sister's heart, she sat in silence holding back with all her might.

"I’ll get more work done."

"If you just let her go." The final word crushed my sister's heart into shards, as I spoke a faux truth.

"Go Marble and visit the Pink." Father sighed with a hint of annoyance.

"But ye better be back!"

"By next week!" he barked like an old dog, pushing away from the table roughly.

Father walks outside.

Mother cleans off the table in stride.

Marble is sobbing at the table today.

If I wish her to soar.

I must be this way.

I want to plea.

Forgiveness for those words I spoke.

Marble runs off.

So here I’m alone.

Enjoying a breakfast.

Of tears and stone.