This Broken Thing
I need to fix this broken thing.
It is hungry and wants to
come out to play but
its bones have become
brittle with defeat;
they have
turned to
ash.
I need to fix this broken thing.
When it sees the light,
it scuttles back
into the shadows
that have become home.
Licking wounds has never
been so satisfying.
Or
more terrifying.
It is afraid of strangers.
It is afraid of mirrors.
It is afraid of
e v e r y t h i n g.
People walk by its rusted cage
to wonder what went wrong.
This broken thing
shouldn’t be here, but
it is dangerous.
It shouldn’t be allowed
in public anymore.
It shouldn’t be left alone
anymore.
I should put a yellow sign on it
that says,
“Come in, but be cautious”
for it has been known to
gnaw on flesh
and feelings
when attacked.
This broken thing once bloomed.
It once belonged to a
solitary daughter of the moon.
Its laugh once shook the room.
This thing was once never a broken thing.
But, certain things can only take so much
before evolving into
something
broken.
Copyright © Feli Elizab | Year Posted 2015
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