Loud and young
My voice rung
Free in its burdens
Overwhelmed in yearning

Loud and young
My voice blurred
Mixed and buried
In unsettling surroundings, unheard

Silent
Alone
Unmoving
Lost

Whisper scream
Moon for company
Burdens blur simmering
Over clawing emptiness

Slurred speech
Between few
You know
I know you

Like a poor man's stain glass art
Salvaging beauty in broken sentences
What sense would you tell me it would make
To break glass of different colour to make a singular beautiful piece
When that is all I have to work with,
Broken glass
And no glue to piece them