sharp edgesA Poem by Kirai am a pillow, a disc of wood, a mirror, a smooth-glass charm. i am metallic and have been sharpened to razor edges.if my memories were made physical, they'd be a square of pillow when i was three. too young to turn it over, for the cool spot i drift, almost inhumanly fast, to sleep (but people have to grow up sometime, right?)
if my memories were made physical, they'd be a square of wood when i was nine. weathered, beaten by unnatural forces hollow--cut me in half and count the rings (if you try to hold me under, i float.)
if my memories were made physical, i'd hold a square of mirror when i was eleven. finally seeing all the ugly parts of myself, doing all that unwarranted tearing from the inside (drop me in shock, and i shatter. bad luck.)
if my memories were made physical, i'd hold a square of smooth glass when i was thirteen. like the hand in the pocket, rubbing your thumb against it to calm you down, i sit dormant and warm (when i wormed outside, i cracked on the ground, and was left there.)
if my memories were made physical, i'd hold a square of metal when i was fifteen. can't see inside me now; i'm locked off and ready to fight. my corners are tipped with razor edges. (you run a finger down the cold side of me, and you are sliced. rust stains will stay. you bleed.) © 2011 KiraAuthor's Note
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3 Reviews Added on March 31, 2011 Last Updated on March 31, 2011 Author
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