The way their lips curl back
To reveal sharply angled teeth
Looks less like a smile
And more like a warning
Their words cut worse than anything else
Leaving wounds that could never be filled with tears
Even the smaller wounds sting
When they are remembered later in life
And all of the old thoughts come rushing back
All of your wounds reopened
Just from all of their glass smiles
And sharp teeth
Nothing could be justified
By their improvised lies
Falling perfectly into place
Marking their victims with an unexpected daze

The tears that fall from our eyes
Are starting to turn red
As all of our blood rushes to our head
Burning rage chokes us to death
Until that time when we finally snap
And bring out our own glass smile
Preparing to leave wounds
Just as deep as the ones they left on you
Stab marks left behind on their waxy skin
They were just pretending to have emotions
You know that they were all fake
Their glass smiles making them real
More life like then their marring wounds

the most beautiful glass hearts are shattered,
patterned with perfect imperfections,
stained with painful expression of
rejection
dejection
reconnection
ingrained in the scattered reflection:
white light sliced into spectrum ascension,
the pension of attention.

If you ever think of giving me false hope
Or never ending lies
I suggest you don't.

My heart is too fragile
Mend of fractures of glasses
I've picked before.

It's too weak
After series
And series
Of hopeful regret.

So if you ever
Think about breaking my heart
I beg you
With all energy
I still had

Please don't.

My poor, glass heart

has been jumbled around,

insulted, kicked.

It has been dented,

chipped, flicked.

What's more, is that

it has been left

lying on the floor.

Stepped upon, stomped,

bruised all over.

It's as though I

carry an unlucky clover.

So, please, I beg you!

Be careful with

my poor glass heart;

I fear even just one

more hurt will

tear it apart.