Jul 2017
Broken window
I’m the stone she put through the glass
Of her own room
I will not default on my blame
But what of the hand I was rested in
Ever so innocent
Weighing on broken shoulders of guilt
Fractured to shards
And the stone prays for miracles
May she learn, unharmed
I’m the stone she put through the glass
Of her own room
I will not default on my blame
But what of the hand I was rested in
Ever so innocent
Weighing on broken shoulders of guilt
Fractured to shards
And the stone prays for miracles
May she learn, unharmed
What if we were too careless and self-absorbed or selfrighteous, to learn from our mistakes?
What if we loved drama more than we did ourselves and our loved ones?
What if we loved drama more than we did ourselves and our loved ones?
