GLASS WORKS

The boy who broke his diamond hourglass

"Love does't make this world run, misery does."-Eraj 

In molten ashes, our fates written
with layers that come undone:
from gravel to stone to rust,
All the while, the skies change color
like filthy human minds-and seasons morph
from late summer to fall to frost.
But the pages unturned,
and nothing ever truly changed,
the story remained the same,
the songs on repeat sing of a boy
who broke his diamond hour-glass,
to the tune of an enemy’s love song,
his delicate coat broke,
God only knows,
His poor soul dreamed of:
cracked lenses and wretched butterfly wings
-In stale color and broken patterns,
The unborn seeds lay dead,
In Earth’s humble couches and thorny graves,
Too bad he confused his ideals
Of love and other simple things,
And that’s what happened to you, I and the rest of us,
We all turned onto fragile, broken things,
But it’s best to put to rest,
Our delusion and other false images,
And close one eye, and let the
queer, exciting thought
Of never waking up
confuse and consume.