21 April, 2016

Shattered Glass

Tinkle, as I fell to the floor
like shattered glass I came apart.
Pieces lay in a chaotic state, like
a jigsaw puzzle dumped
out of its box.

Visible were the colorful days.
Visible were the gray nights.

Sorting, sorting to make sense,
trying to find the straight edges, that made me.
Turning gray ones to color finding how I fit,
as if they were a magical solution,
as if I lived.

Slowly my blue color dictated.
Slowly my red disappeared.

Shattered and broken
like so many families torn from their roots.
They were crushed by the mental disorder,
frustrated, trying to see a picture.
One lost piece is not found.

Glass can be super glued.
Glass will still show cracks.

Copyright Denise AWhite

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