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30 March 2010

smashed like an old clay jar
contents spilled, emptied
like water poured across desert sands
and i feel the disgrace
the shame of knowing
temperament that riots and rebels
not for any just cause
(sometimes, for no cause at all)
and i wonder if, at the end of the day,
i will be no more than scattered,
broken, shards of clay
of no use to anyone, except
some scholarly sort who looks at pieces,
fragments of something once-human,
and makes fantastic conjectures
about what brand of toothpaste i use.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. 3 April 2010 17:08

    i feel so broken
    like a bug
    that has been squashed
    buy a large boot
    pressed down
    and twisted

  2. 5 April 2010 21:05

    Hmmm… my poem today answers yours, though I hadn’t read it yet. *grin*

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