Broken Glass
Broken glass
and dammits too!
Throw in yells
machine gun words
short-stacato
as vowels blow
over you
It was your
Easter Sunday
Too beautiful
two until two
and frustration
Wondering
where in hell
I come from
going nowhere
with pockets
full of sharp seconds
cold long and hard
Lock the door
but shut it first
asking which came
first...sun or moon
poem by Midnights Voice
Added by Poetry Lover
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