What's this I can hold,
So gold,
My heart or my soul?
What's this you take so for granted,
Like a shard of granite,
Once so beautiful.
There's a lie there,
Embedded deep into there lair,
That it is still beautiful.
Mosaics are made from broken glass,
Just as the wind and fire rains,
With all of your buried sass.
They are broken,
As are you,
Yet they still have the beauty that you crave.
So don't worry about your cracks,
Or your missing pieces.
You are still a work of art.
Even if the one,
Who holds your shatter soul,
Doesn't seem to care.
Remember someone does,
I do,
I will always care,
For you.
-Me, Dec. 4, 2016
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Poems In My Head
PoetryThis is those little whispering poems that weasel their way into my wonderful brain. Don't know how this'll turn out, but, you know how it goes! Lets try something new! It is mature because some of this shit is bad! Extremely! Not sexual, but words...
