Glass and bones and threads and hearts,

And windows, splintered and smashed beyond

Recognition, we spiral into the realm of nothing;

Glue and morphine,

Trying to cover up the tattered bits,

Old white scars and angry, jagged cracks across

The surface of this saviour, this sanctuary.

Some creases can't be ironed out, the stains are bloody, and

Don't wash out; they fade but stand their ground,

A tattered flag of rebellion but

Never surrender.

The End

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