Glass

The glass is broken with every word spoken. I was crass. The thoughts of a razor’s edge is gaining mass. But the glass was broken with a single blast. That raised voice, that anger. I said sorry a thousand times and was forgiven yet the shards still dig into every thought. The glass I see out of was fresh and clean but now it is going to cut me. I can see just clear enough to dismantle a razor. This is not blazing any new ground. Why do I want to swallow a round of lead? I am broken and I can’t find the one that always picks up the pieces. I can’t see, aren’t I supposed to be happy?

Image Source: DawnAllynnStock

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