Broken Glass

Broken glass, the shards lie lifeless, filled with sharp light, ready to cut… the skin of any who dare to pass better be ready to fight.

Broken dreams, its fragments drift without life, both clear at night and dull in the day, dreams, were they mine or are they yours, it does not matter for these dreams are lost, lost without a fight.

A cry, its tears a collective utter, so mournful, lost is all the joy, the gypsy’s cards are turning, fear is no more, no more willingness to put up its fight.

Broken glass, broken dreams, a cry all mingle tonight, as I stare down at the brown residue on the floor of the one drink we lost on this very night.

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