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Scatter my broken heart on a bed of thorns,
Trample the pieces, make it splinters,
Look ahead, it's all forlorn,
What is the point of mending this nothingness?
heart pieces scatter pain
Liz May 2014
Pearl flakes, delicate shards scatter,
shatter. Woven silently, heavily softly, slowly, wafting. Swirling into sparkling sundials.

— The End —