Like glass that shatters
with a shrill voice,
words
splinter my feelings.
They fall as shards of mirror
left for me to see myself
broken and fragmented.
I try to pick them up.
They pierce and cut.
I let them lay awhile
and finally
sweep them aside,
placing them with all
the other pieces
of myself
I no longer wish to see.

How soon
will that be
all that's left?