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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2106531
Submission for the Rant-a-thon
Look into the mirror.
See:
You.

Now.

With gutted fist...SMASH! DESOLATE! (the frame)
Yourself (?)

Your reflection
remains in the shards.
On the wooden floor.

The bell rings...and
they walk through:
the glass smiths
that
fool no one (There's a single fragment out of place)

And we sit and we eat and we smile!
At our shattered genetic junk pile
With wreaths to cover the cracks.

We eat
And
We smile.

Around the Tree.

We rip
And
We shred.

Around the Tree.

And wait for the time again.
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