The glass.., by lovergirl19 Subscribe to rss feed for lovergirl19

No one gets it. No one understands. I feel like I'm standing
on broken glass, while feeling the fire begin to dim. Every
step I take, the more I bleed. I walk, and I walk, until I
have reached the cold, oiled ground of the old brown house;
but then I stop and stare. I stare at the broken window, and
all I think of is my spirit. how they just broke it. How
does one do that? How does one promise you something, then
break it? How do you break someone then expect them to fix
it? Each piece of glass is a piece of me. Broken. That's
okay though. It's just a glass, right? I have tried to pick
up the pieces, but they won't mend. The glass and my spirit
both are broken. My hopes and my dreams are gone. My joy, my
confidence, my dignity was taken. No one, but myself has
tried to repair the damage that has been done, yet it still
isn't fixed. I stare at the window, with shards of glass in
my feet, and all i think about is how the cold air seeps.
Just like my spirit, it can't be fixed. It is dark, cold,
and lonely... Yet the damage has set in..
Posted: 2018-06-14 01:26:05 UTC

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