A glass,
Half full,
Balanced in my palm
Featherlight and small.
Standing, frozen.
The glass commences
To weigh more
And more.
A thought of this
Crystal pricks
Needles
In my forearm.
Soon,
It is too heavy
For me,
Like a boulder
On thin ice.
The pain is unbearable.
My arm trembles,
Shaking,
And the glass
Drops
And shatters.
As soon as
I feel ease,
I try to step forward
When I step on
The broken glass.
YOU ARE READING
senseless.
Poetrysort of a journal and a way to clear my thoughts "in a healthy way." started it when i was fifteen so some stuff might not be the best, but enjoy.
