sharp as the glass that shattered in pure disgust when your voice attempted to  spin a convincing lie. 




heads up: it didn't work. 

double heads up: it was as transparent as the fragments that now litter the ground. 

triple heads up: and now everytime you try to mend the mess with a web of sticky lies and forced 'sorry's', you just end up stabbing yourself with the sharp edges.




 no matter how you try to stitch everything together, the glass - the true, pure truth - will refuse to co-operate. 

 it's a sad, painful reminder that you can't run from your past. 

 the damage is irreplaceable.