Broken Glass

Sometimes, I see the world through blood red eyes.

A constant pain and bitter loneliness; it's evergreen,

And I struggle to ask for what I need.

Trust doesn't come to me easily.

Now, it feels even farther out of my reach.

Asking to lean on someone seems impossible, unfathomable.

Wanting to cry kills me.. But, saves me.

Love is no longer something worth asking for, or striving for.

Not because of those who have love to give.

No. I quest my own ability to offer such a fantasy.

You can only glue together broken glass so many times

Before it's no longer a colorful masterpiece of imperfections,

And instead just a broken mess that cuts your foot.

I am no longer a beautiful sculpture, if I ever was.

Why do I torture myself with cruel thoughts

Of "what if?"

I will quietly crawl into my cave,

My safe place where none come to bother,

And safely keep silent.

My opinion is no longer worth the time, nor the energy,

To express.

Reviews

[Chris]

Hi... this one hurt. Been there, done that - only begins a tale. Silence isn't "golden" - just so damn loud it hurts.