Cracked is all I’ve known
Frayed lines my only home
My soul is pouring out like yoke
I find I’m not whole

I have yet to find a “why”
Too poor to live, too young to die
A tightrope walker hanging by a thread
A teacup continually chipping

And the audience applauds at such
My measures to see I don’t break too much
These words of crimson color pour
From gaping crevasses

I form each tearing truth to roses
Each biting ache I self compose
Compressed into symphonies of diamond
The wound unhealed, but heard

The piercing dagger now my pen
My mind plunging it, twisting again
To find the joy of my head sorrows
So beautifully broken