At certain moments
All that you are stops,
Like the falling of plates
Crashing onto alabaster
A tingling, biting into walls
One is pricked, ****** sore.
Unable to find bearable bearings
In the harvest of despair.
It takes a very long stretch to
Get together a pair of shoes
And walk that first mile.
How many times does a person endure
Before becoming a chip of china,
So sharp it would ****.
For most the brain rearranges and
The pilot reignites
But sometimes , just occasionally,
One dies.

Love Mary ***