There It Stood
There it stood,
torn from the threshold of life,
this mere device of atrocities,
this buttonhole that bleeds
your insecurities across
an ancient atlas.
It dies in the corner of your eye
as you solemnly glance,
yet make no movement to save it.
This is the terrible loss of belief
that leaves you glaringly empty,
no matter your desperation to retrieve it.