Shattered porcelain pieces.

by blossom666

Shattered porcelain 

entwined through 

plastic beakers. 

Atoms split through 

with the lacerated 

edge of your blade, 

the air cackles with 

your hate. It’s only 

when I rise that you 

see me, I’ll close the 

iron cage myself your 

indignation can be the 

key. Shattered porcelain 

pieces as profanities 

suck life from the lifeless. 

Stepping stones to the 

eternity of the dammed. 

I’m tired, 

shattered 

porcelain 

pieces.
Karen Hayward ©2016

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