Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2016
I didn't want to stand in front of that tainted reflection,
like so many times in the past...

I could no longer stare at something broken,
without punching through the glass.

As the pieces of broken facades lay around me,
I played with them.

Grabbing a piece of what remained,
I watched the blood run down my wrist,
finally something that was unfeigned.
Hold on to what is real, even though it may hurt.
Written by
Cara Lea
343
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems