*Her soul is made of
scattered glass and broken spirits.
Her flesh is pockmarked
with bruises and cuts.
Her face radiates with
agony and despair.
Tears shine
like freshly polished crystals
Mouth frozen open.
Cannot move, cannot
reach the blessed silence.
Of which fragments of me
try fruitlessly to
Hide in, to give in to
cowardice.*
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
*Her soul is made of
scattered glass and broken spirits.
Her flesh is pockmarked
with bruises and cuts.
Her face radiates with
agony and despair.
Tears shine
like freshly polished crystals
Mouth frozen open.
Cannot move, cannot
reach the blessed silence.
Of which fragments of me
try fruitlessly to
Hide in, to give in to
cowardice.*
2/23/14
