The Message

My parents never gave me any attention. They were rich and that was all they cared about. What did it matter to them if I refused to do anything? Nothing, I tried to get their attention by doing all sorts of things. It never worked.

     Finally, I broke, I was tired of being ignored. I bought all the supplies I needed, plaster, paint, molds; all for a sculpture that provided a message, my message.

     The molds were set and the plaster was dry, my piece was almost ready to be buried ‘underneath’ the tree. The tree was supposed to be cut down, a beautiful oak tree, but I am stopping it.