Broken Clay

As a poet solves puzzles of life . My ink draws lines of "symmetry", to align the brokenness of my uncalculated moves. I'm no poet but a broken Clay pot with unheard words. Broken to pieces, I bleed words to meet right at the symmetrical point of my brokenness. Made of clay, I break when misunderstood. Boiling with a ladder of incomprehension these misunderstandings I can not fathom. If I do I'll be right at the bottom. Broken to pieces as broken Clay . I run in a broken relay. At the mercies of the match maker I plead brokenness.