The pitched sound of glass that breaks and I just fall The surprise as it slips from your fingers. Bleeding while you're trying to save it all. Lost forever, this feeling lingers.
Trying to fix it, but failing hard. Doubting what to do as your hope starts to fade. It hurts more than to just stop and fall appart. Gleaming with the failures you've made.
Puzzling the pieces is harder than I thought. The wounds in my fingers are not helping. It's all for nothing and I've fought. My fingers full of glass and the bleeding isn't stelping.
The glass can never be saved, what's done is done. And when your life is flipping upside down. And you realise, all you did is run. You see the blood and you hear the sound.
You never wanted it to drop. You didn't even realise. The clinging sound in the cleaning mop. Nearly pretty, your demise.
His silence can't be tamed.
This is one of my first poems, it might sound strange since I repolished it and translated it to English (from Dutch). The original was a bit darker too, I had to turn it down a notch (don't worry, it's been 2 years, I'm in a post depression state and just posting the poems I've made in those terrible times)