A Shattered Self
My brilliance is finite
Like my will to live,
I’m running out of light
as sand falls through a sieve.
And as a life i fail,
My wicked blood runs black,
A cautionary tale
In a second hand stack.
My cries will cause a flood,
Giving proof to my old fear,
That between the cracks seeps blood;
Even mad ones don’t come near.
For a shattered self repels
And a sorry self denies,
Mirrors show no parallels
And none reflect my cries.
Copyright © Alice Woede | Year Posted 2012
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