walking with a little poetic licence

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Broken glass screams in my mind
like splintered shards burning in the aching heat
scratching down white gloss paint into unforgiving iron beneath.

I shake my head to rid it of it's shattered points,
The noise screeches, louder and louder, rattling the deepest pain,
Then sinks and settles, to dumb numbness once again.

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