Translucent,
Clearly visible,
That which lies within,
Malleable when heated to extreme,
By passion or regret,
Accepting the arrangements,
And shape and form,
Of that which afflicts and guides it,
Made ornate with,
Precious events and horrific realities,
It slowly becomes opaque,
No longer allowing light to pass,
Reflecting instead,
What was inside,
Now dead,
Hardened and brittle,
So easily shattered,
Shards and fragments,
like razors,
make unwanted openings,
To a great depth,
Into the soul,
Of the one who possesses such a frail and perishable,
Glass heart.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 5:35 AM UTC
Translucent,
Clearly visible,
That which lies within,
Malleable when heated to extreme,
By passion or regret,
Accepting the arrangements,
And shape and form,
Of that which afflicts and guides it,
Made ornate with,
Precious events and horrific realities,
It slowly becomes opaque,
No longer allowing light to pass,
Reflecting instead,
What was inside,
Now dead,
Hardened and brittle,
So easily shattered,
Shards and fragments,
like razors,
make unwanted openings,
To a great depth,
Into the soul,
Of the one who possesses such a frail and perishable,
Glass heart.