poems

Glass Swords

Eyes bright,
So young,
So fragile.
Our lives are so very
Fragile.

We are glass swords,
forged in the fires of discrimination
of a broken world
and shattered in an act of self defense.

We are the sky
Unseen on cloudy nights,
planets and stars unaligned.

We are spent bullets,
left by the ones
who used us to kill.

We are the tears we hold back
when we're too broken to cry.
We are no one's fairy tale,
Our own worst nightmare.

But we are here.
We're here.

We are the strongest house of cards
you've ever seen.
No one can bring our empire down.

We are a flag flown at half staff,
snapping proudly in the wind.
The sorrow you felt,
was never deeper than the pain
we feel every day.

We are a symphony
played for no one
but ourselves.

Those things don't matter
anymore,
because we know,
you can't help us.

But if we raise our glass swords
to the sky,
Letting the light refract
around their brilliance,
Then maybe,
just maybe,

We can save ourselves.

Because we're breathing.
And we're still alive.

Even after all the times,
You've tried to finish us.