For NaNoWriMo Day 29, Used my own prompt again.
Credit: Marinka Vinkman via Unsplash.
A perfect pane of glass, and all seen is crystal clear,
A rock chip fractured the perfection, and something broken won’t ever be the same.
The fracture lines still show, and slivered splinters ache.
Tiny diamonds to pull out; you can’t remove the pain yourself.
So, you sit and someone you don’t know, pokes and prods; it looks easy to remove,
The shard, the sliver, the hurt.
But, they dig around and hum a tune, as if these moments are nothing;
Small agony, plastic smiles in the end — as if a person’S brushed past.
Then, all of the paint, and the thickening mediums flood the canvas sky.
The masterpiece peeling paint, blotched lines, trailing wet drips, paths down a wall;
A damp foggy space and you keep cutting yourself, unable to see ten-steps ahead;
Day-by-day, you learn to let your wounds be, to reform pottery takes time — to heal with precious metal.
What’s the price, what’s the damage?What’s the favor or end game; what are the lies?
But then everyone’s suffering slivers, there’s glass on every road;
Popped tires, cars skid, windshields stunned; windows battered.
Eyes close, too many slivers slice, each somedays,
What’s the method to remove them without prodding half-healed scars?
Change a thoughtless habit, change the world; change only need be small.
No one asks for slivers, embedded glass in their hand, scar tissue that makes tiny wounds bleed;
When any human, no matter their background cries, mercy should be given without fail;
Care and concern without a price as sometimes there’s help — but then there’s help —
Precarious day’s where both you and I’ve done untold damage — but I’m learning we must repair wounds despite.
Tiny or gaping, the hurt matters not when it can be healed — be it with ease or struggle.
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