A broken bit of glass
I am a broken bit of glass,
pieces scattered all over the place
in different hands and hearts.
Crushed into tiny segments of dejection and fear
Stomped on by many passers by
Ignored by the high class as I sit on the floor
Each part of me cuts when you try to mend
the complex sections of ruptured fear
Blood drops from hand to the floor
“I’m sorry” before I slice a chunk of your flesh off a beaten hand
See-through, getting stained from green misery and pain
Visible insides glow however they feel toxic
Do not touch my contents unless you prefer venom over love
for I am only a broken bit of glass
I think I have thankfully avoided being quoted.