The Eggshell Girl

Why am I a girl made of eggshells?

If you touch my edges,

You will come away bloody.

And I will fracture at the point of pressure.

My yolk is sunny.

It sloughs out of my smile, and spatters onto the floor.

A yellow soul spilt.

Why am I a girl made of mines?

My exterior is cold,

Brewing, ominous.

I will leave you in a field of smoking grass,

Wondering where the explosion came from,

Wondering where the girl you were trying to walk to,

Went.

Author's Note

...I know. I know. It could use some revision.

Reviews

[Jibey]

Some powerful and original images make up a gritty and honest self-appraisal. (I suspect you are doing yourself down)