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Broken Nails

These broken nails Not pretty to look at, My triumphs, my fails Mean more than that Been scratching away Digging for some end, By night, by day … ‘Til they begin to bend Once polished to a shine … Is perfectly cracked, With pulled hair of mine And my nerves wracked All glitter, all gold … Neither one can stay, But, broken nails, I'm told Says something anyway.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 6/28/2025 8:54:00 PM
I find a profound message a way under the surface here, Kelly. Thank you for posting this... and, well, maybe there is such a thing as over-exertion...
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Date: 6/21/2025 4:42:00 PM
Men prefer it that way.
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Date: 6/20/2025 3:05:00 PM
I enjoyed your poem. It sounds like you garden without gloves. Broken need nails are the reason that I no longer garden. Best wishes. May you get some lovely blooms.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things