Shattered Glass, Broken Shell

I am torn and bleeding,

Ripped to shreds from the beating,

I took the night you left me,

Standing on a bridge ready to collapse,

And all I can think is “Was it me, perhaps?”

Now I am drowning in darkness,

Wishing you'd come back with that feeling I miss.

Smoke and mirrors surrounded me,

I misstepped once, how can this be?

That my fall would reveal your truth and identity.

Too much to handle then, but I'm still here,

I pieced back together the mirrors in fear

That it wasn't an illusion, hoping that it wasn’t fate

But the truth remained inside of me and filled me with hate.

It boils and molds and twists and grows,

'Til I'm left standing alone in the cold.

Wondering and wishing and hoping and praying

That my reluctance won't leave me paying

A great price for the rest of my life for

What I thought was truth and honesty, but more

Than that, I made it my life, my purpose and foundation

From which I stood and grew into a nation

Of self worth and confidence and hope.

Now I'm standing on a chair with a rope

Tied around my neck, threatening and daunting, those very

Mirrors that I had erected and then repaired, staring me down making me weary

Of the fact that I could've been horribly wrong

And blinded by ignorance all along.

And yet I still cling to the smoke and lies

That must be provided by those very eyes

That gave me my foundation of brick and stone

And built upon it their very own throne

From which they ultimately possessed me, body and soul

From which they could easily toss me into a hole,

A pit of disaster and pain and heartbreak

That left me with scars and unable to make

Sense of myself and my surroundings, so abound

With shadows and ghosts that have found

My weaknesses so carefully covered and hidden

From the world, cold and uncaring, that has ridden

Me away from warmth and comfort, and making me pay,

Forcing me to stay alone in this way

So sadly shapen from glass of delicate

Standing, making me tip-toe and remain,

In a sense so darkly inhumane,

Comfortably, quietly unbroken

That I might wonder who has spoken

So harshly as to crack me from bottom to rim

When the mirrors seemed to have covered me on whim

In layers of concrete making me whole

No longer see through so the world would know

That I am alive and able to be

A source of life, so I thought, can't you see?

That they're tearing me down, these mirrors erected,

From which I thought I saw myself and my world reflected,

But I feel as if the resounding shock wave

From the way you thrash and behave

Has broken me inside where my glass was once whole

Yet the concrete laid upon me stands still, though hollow.

No can see that the inside was me

And now I'm paying a sickly fee

For a false form, whole I am not

But barely a part of, tied in a knot

Of circling guilt and fear and anguish

As that delicate inside, the mirrors extinguish

And shatter, though you claim ignorance

For the pieces you have managed to glance

At and still not see, and my voice is lost

To you, unaware that for your actions there is a cost:

My soul is fading, its glass cover has been shattered

The pieces are leaking through a shell that is battered

From being tossed around and used so carelessly

As to make me wonder if you'll ever really miss me.

I cried for you to come to my aid

But you turned your back and for this I have paid

A dear price I cannot afford.

Of my antics it is plain you are bored,

And now I cry alone, drained of the energy I gave

In hopes a friendship might continue to pave

A new and brighter path for me.

But now I am doomed for eternity

To revisit my mistakes and wonder

Why I could not be forgiven and felt of fonder.

I could not be more sorry for the pain

I must have caused that will not wane

That you choose to inflict upon me,

With purpose and knowing, so indefinitely,

A bout of bitter cold I cannot ignore....

Leaving me struggling for breath and warmth, curled on the floor.

And with this I can say no more.

From my shattered and throbbing core

I am sorry I disappointed and annoyed and hurt,

I am sorry I could not mean more than dirt.

In time even my shell will crumble

And I will be free to tumble

Along with the wind free of this guilt

And this house of pain and sadness that has been built.