Fragile, this existence,
love...
parading by-

As days count and storm clouds rise...
Beneath me on the pavement
lie the shards
of what I once was, what could have been,
silenced,
as the crowd looks on

Vast collections of splintered feelings
tear at me,
rip my flesh,
purge my heart,
bringing the pain of dying gardens,
over run with weeds of intense sense and truth,
as these faces
grow wicked

Oh how these blooms stare
openly gawking, (perhaps smirking)
as I drop the shears to the ground,
where they stick
points forward,
and the soften asphalt swallows

Nurtured inward lies converge on me
My beliefs chase me,
laugh at me,
taunt me,
like a parade balloon fighting against the wind

The marching band stands still,
there is no music,
only the mocking of colorful floats
shedding memories
like pink tissue paper flowers
to the street

They trample me,
and I thank them…
For this is me,
face down