Glass

Feeble, fragile, faulty at heart,
frivolous issues shall render me apart;
thus the world will shatter into glass,
diluting the blood of mine,
reddening the lush green grass.

Show me how to be whole again,
be a human whom is without stain;
be smothered by the acidic rain,
and shriek the cries of utter pain.

Reduce me into dead dust,
by yourself if you must.
Rid me of the suffering I face,
and exemplify my goals for this race;
let my tears flow along the wild gust,
before my soul of steel shall ever rust.

I'm just a raindrop in this brazen storm,
taking on such trivial form.
This is all that I could ever be,
forever a servant in the army of pictures;
forever a wilted leaf of the dead bushes;
forever a liar, of the forbidden raptures.

Just a writer, without thought a fleet,
my glass pen brushes along the diamond sheet,
ripping itself into shreds of sharps,
lacerating through my skin
until all hope was thin.