The shards of my broken life

Stick me painfully today

As they have in many past, and will in more to come

Some days I can almost pretend they are no longer there

Hidden just beneath the surface

Waiting to tear away the skin

With any given twist or turn.

Some days I can almost pretend.

But not today.

Today I can feel each one

Pressing its way outward

Screaming its own story of my failures as it breaks the skin

Together, a snarling symphony of my own disappointment


Why did I put these hateful things in here?

For what purpose have they been so well embedded?

For a purpose there must be

It simply cannot be the cruel twists of random fate alone

And nothing more


Writer's Nook

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