Broken Glass
Do you hear the horn of the train?
And the pitter patter of rain?
Listen close do you hear a sound?
Only silence, will she be found?
Who is fragile, who is of strength
How can one know another’s length?
Blind to the mask which hides her tears
Binding her to demons and fears
A fake light remains as she falls
Even while her broken heart stalls
Darkness commences in her soul
Blood loss spirals out of control
What an alluring crimson paint
Overworked artist starts to faint
Do you hear the horn of the train?
And the pitter patter of rain?
Listen close do you hear a sound?
Only silence, will she be found?
Why do some dance falsely with death?
Unable to force their last breath
Her unspoken words of pureness
Soaked deeply in her loneliness
The jagged line of her escape
Leaves the unsuspecting agape
Drawn up on the median vein
Just a few more moments of pain
Eyes flutter and seconds pass
Then gently falls the broken glass
Do you hear the horn of the train?
And the pitter patter of rain?
Listen close do you hear a sound?
Only silence, will she be found?
Then gently falls the broken glass
Copyright © Jillian Veitenheimer | Year Posted 2013
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