tomorrow's world changes today
believe that joy will never leave
emerald glass surrounds sorrow
rainbow eyes are there to follow

as her glass heart beats,
it cracks little by little
as her chest caves in.
she closes her eyes.
her deep, slow breaths
restore her aching body
as her chest straightens.
the cracking suddenly stops.
her soul glues the cracks
and her heart is whole again,
stronger than ever before.

I am glass

I’m sturdy
shiny
beautiful
till I crack
Then I shatter

don’t be fooled though
For even when I’m shattered
I’m still strong enough to hurt you
For when I shatter is when you bleed

So don’t push me

Or I might just crack

Little glass axolotl perfect
shades of pink and orange.
Found him at the thrift store
brought him home &
shone him up with some  
windex and a cotton cloth.
Now he sits on the shelf  
and sometimes I pick him  
up to marvel at the smoothness  
of his back, and the perfectly formed gills  
at the sides of his head.
My little glass axolotl  
is one of the things that
pulls me through papers  
with his tiny smile and  
teensy toes. This is love caught in
silica and pigment. Yes this
is what love is.

the glass broke through my skin,
piercing my heart over and over.
the agony brought me to my knees
as I carefully removed the shards.
the wounds sting, craving relief,
from a soothing, cool, light balm.
I slowly apply it, closing my eyes
as it enters the wounds on my heart,
bringing me comfort as I start to heal.

in the silence,
i can hear something is shattering,
but it’s not the glass,
from the table,
nor from the kitchen,
what is it?
its turning into dust and debris,
all over the place,
but blinded by eyes,
and silence at mouths.

Sight of mine dulled to nothing but red.
My aching fingers bleeding from the splayed out shards of glass.
Time and time again, this feeling will never truly fade.
The destruction that eases into every walk that I take.

The pent up pain that does not soothe
It only comes in waves of doubt and an ache that runs deeply through my body.
I can only sit in silence and wait for it to wash over  as the never-ending wrath bounces in the corners of the room.
No freedom found as I keep myself from lashing out.

My blood keeps dripping around my pooling ire.
To lock up such a monster that laps away at every upset and disappointment
There really is no telling when
The day it stops rocking back and forth the dark curtained bedroom I try to subdue it in.

The day my warm blood no longer satisfies the steely blue light that edges its existence.
And the way it bounces off of the crystal shards coated in crimson beneath my hands.
Alcohol has never truly worked for me as much as I wished it did.
What do I do when there is nothing I can do?

How will I cope when I can no longer keep from being violent?

-Kore