Glass


Is the glass half full or half empty?
I have the answer but you won't tell me.
Streams and tears turn black;
Running down my cheeks and onto your back.
I wish I knew the feeling that I once felt,
I just went along with the cards that were dealt.
Heart of glass and mind of stone,
nothing here except my flesh and bones.
I feel you on my neck and in my hair,
But nothing was so shallow and so bare.
The blackness oozing from my eyes stains my shirt.
The souls pulling me, I feel the rawness of the dirt.
It shattered. Shards everywhere.
The ground starts to shake and I can no longer stare.
Chains start at my ankles and tighten around my neck.
No longer is it just black on my shirt,
But now red specks.
The red seeps down dripping and coloring my shirt.
For some reason,
All of this doesn't compare to what you hurt.
I thought this was maybe where I belong,
Because no matter what I said about the cup,
I was wrong.

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