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Monday, September 8, 2014

Broken Glass

Shattered reflections
In broken glass
Just can’t bear to see
What is real, what is false?
Face lined with pain
Sorrow and heartache
Borrowing trouble
Or the smiling visage
Presenting to the world
Carefree and Nar-do-well
The truth is in the middle somewhere
But could true medium exist
When joy and sorrow war?
Perhaps Viviane meant the sword
To destroy this world of seeming
Feint copies, automatons
Merely wound up, marching along


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