Stumble upon the shards of the glass
Cover your jeans in stains from the wet green grass
Melt as if you were a candle
Dying from the flame
You were in a time
Trapped like a mime
In a non existing box
That you made for yourself
Out of your imagination
To save yourself from the monsters inside
This creation, you planned it all out
By pushing them all out and putting up the walls of your glass house
Soon the monsters came about
Took down your protective glass house
Crack
Went your fragile creation
Down it gone, fallen to the ground and shattered
Then you
Stumble upon the shards of the glass
Cover your jeans in stains from the wet green grass
You run from the monsters now
Afraid to back out
You're stuck in that box you made for yourself
No longer in the small glass house
Still running from the monsters
Still running from help
You reach for the door
You realize its gone
There's nobody to ask for help
You pushed them all out
Now its too late to turn things around
The monsters have got you now.
YOU ARE READING
Shadows From The Heart & All Other Places They Hide
Poesia"Please tell me, why does one write poems at all? Isn't it a waste of time?" A child asked me once. I replied, "So we could write meaningfulness to cover up the truth that everything is meaningless." It was the truth, was it not? Cover made by me
