stone, blood, glass (20160809)

i want to turn
my hands to stone

let them harden
the way my heart
slowly becomes
a smooth orb
of cold marble

there is a world of mirrors
that needs smashing
and my hands
won’t cease
won’t heal
won’t quit bleeding

6 thoughts on “stone, blood, glass (20160809)”

      1. Identity. The fragility of the ego. I mean, I guess. I don’t usually write in terms of symbols so much as try to match my words with a feeling. That’s when I’m consciously writing, anyway.

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