this ornate piece of glass that you have
fashioned
just for my own
smashed upon the harsh ground
rolled into my flesh
ne’er to be of beauty again
must I?
this life I have while others have not
such waste
deliberate and unsanctioned
i would tear out my heart if only my eyes could see
this lollipop of ash
such decadent ice cream of rotting flesh
tell the ravens to circle
the crows of my mind are of murder
my flesh may have colour
but I am truly pale
blood no longer flows,
coagulates
bless me now for time is short
my hands are full of dust
i long for the stars that others hold
clouds kept slipping through my fingers
my pillow, it brings facades of peace
piece by morning that falls into place
providing sleep invites
otherwise, this darkness
holds my hand through another night
-j.g.smith (14/08/07)
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