Poetry of a Conlanger

Friday, April 28, 2006

Catapult

Now that our glass is shattered
And the water is running everywhere,
I am angry.

In this filthy dump where you put me,
(were you forced to?)
I am livid.
I built a catapult out of bits and pieces,
Even a shard of that glass.
Broken trust, crumpled hope, torn love.

And my anger pushes me out of the dump,
And I am alive,
But your eyes are sad
In the mirror.

What happened to us??

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home