You are the broken pottery
I bear in my broken hands.
You are the cracked glass
that split the world in half,
the sawed-through cane
I rested my burden on,
the frayed noose you
fashioned into a leash.
You are broken, my dear,
like everyone else here,
I carry you like an illness.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
You are the broken pottery
I bear in my broken hands.
You are the cracked glass
that split the world in half,
the sawed-through cane
I rested my burden on,
the frayed noose you
fashioned into a leash.
You are broken, my dear,
like everyone else here,
I carry you like an illness.
As seen on Apostatements (apostating.wordpress.com)
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