Here’s a poem about being broken, a shattered glass pricking everyone’s footsteps.
Damn you for breaking , they must be thinking. Wipe those tears and shut those eyes,dream a new dream and don’t confide,and I listen, to the sounds of a mission in derision.
Then,day drops dew on mornings and, I stop mourning false perceptions of you.
Then I can stand up and dance on head stones yelling “Yoo hoo!” To passerby while flaunting nude sacred visions of me. In real color vision. Prism