I may be ******* the outside
but if you. look closely you'll see
that I am delicate


no more than thin glass
easily breakable
and already shattered


A mosaic of pain
woven in detail to create a dysfunctional me
pieces shoved together haphazardly together in glue
to abstractedly resemble what was once new
and naive

I said 'I love you'
To you
Not anyone else

I'd lie
Rob
Leave
Block
Just do ANYTHING

All for you
You and you only
But when you leave..
Leave me

I'm gone
Your my everything
Your my world
I must've been a fool..
To believe you bluff

It stung, dear
It stung as if glass
Were in my eyes
My skin
My organs

I was so attached
So blind and foolish to not see it
See your lies

Crashing against the rocks.
                Washing away the sand.
                             Weathering it to glass.

Depression is like waves.
                  And I am already glass.

I sit on a dusty shelf.
The days go by,
And I watch the children play.
I am sad and alone.

But one day,
A child notices me.
They notice my beauty and elegance.
They carefully carry me down from the shelf.
I now have a friend.

Months pass.
I spend time with my friend every day.
But suddenly,
They drop me on the ground.
My fragile glass skin is cracked.
I am broken.
My friend sees my shattered state,
But they do not care.
I am no longer beautiful in their eyes.
They leave me there.
I am alone again.

Yesterday I swallowed a tiny glass capsule
much like that
I've been walking around in for years
amongst these picture people.
My palm clung to walls made sticky by the heat,
skin to pane,
I could not bear to let go.
I wanted to enjoy their stapler smiles
but the fog made it impossible to see.
I only called it what it was
when I breathed it into the glass.
It was always there.
I wished it would fill the whole thing,
wished I had a match,
so it would serve some purpose.
So my capsule becomes gray and troubling
against its paper background.
So they stop and stare,
Look at the girl in the bubble.
I think she's suffocating.
Like it's a revelation.
Like Gabriel himself hand-delivered
tiny glass pills for them to swallow.
Let me be their spectacle.
Let me be the object of their pity.
Let me be a one-woman-glass-capsule miniature show.
I'll be their tired metaphor.
I'll choke on shimmering shards so they can watch my blood color their roses.
I'll drink until I'm heavy with turpentine.
I will destroy myself.
I will make it clean.
Tiny glass capsule
in my wooden palm
who did you once hold?

While I was passaging around;-
In an acquainted car, deprived of any hint of tints
My soul felt stuck inside that glass box;
Clear as a lucid bright day, to see how fragile I am

The glass in itself;- was reflective, so picturized
Boldly showing all the ugliness written out,
By the milage in my eyes.