dimanche, juillet 17, 2005
pieces (to complete the three)
the glittering shards
so carelessly strewn they are
like some cruel sadist blinding me
with the fragmented reality of life.
why do you pick up the pieces?
do they not cut? does it not hurt?
what will you do with them? now
the work of our lives are destroyed.
so cruelly and carelessly destroyed.
does not the ringing of the blow still echo?
in your ears, in your bones, in your heart.
it entrances me and shocks me, and stuns me into inaction.
unbelievably, my crystal beams are gone,
again.
i would sit there, emotionless?
watching the glimmers, watching you
pick up your pieces, but why.
if. if i left it be, would glass
slowly melt like the liquid which it is.
would the winter turn to spring
pieces (to complete the three)
why do you pick up the pieces
the glittering shards
so carelessly strewn they are
like some cruel sadist blinding me
with the fragmented reality of life.
why do you pick up the pieces?
do they not cut? does it not hurt?
what will you do with them? now
the work of our lives are destroyed.
so cruelly and carelessly destroyed.
does not the ringing of the blow still echo?
in your ears, in your bones, in your heart.
it entrances me and shocks me, and stuns me into inaction.
unbelievably, my crystal beams are gone,
again.
i would sit there, emotionless?
watching the glimmers, watching you
pick up your pieces, but why.
if. if i left it be, would glass
slowly melt like the liquid which it is.
would the winter turn to spring
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