Shattered
What is new is always old , for the flower of beauty lyes in the eye of the beholder
As the lovely china dish soars across the room and crashes into the locked door.
The door that holds back truth, life, the real world. My fear.
The man just beyond that door awaits and answer to a simple question yet I remain in a defiant silence.
The world to me has faded in to nothing more than a fallen cedar tree.
All I can do is write as I do now, saving every last drop of my sanity to spill out onto my paper.
It is all sacred to me, what is left of it, my self, my passions
The only bits of dignity in my still flaming soul.
The trash of my life has been spilled out around me life a tumped over trashcan
But, What can you do? For there is no rewind button.
Doomed from collision of sperm and egg to live in a world of pain such as this?
Will it ever change? Can it? I don’t think it will.
As I sit here contemplating the world, it continues to turn, yes, it should have stopped yesterday
For That was the day She died.
The day I was shattered.
