Kreaton

Childhood Misanthropy
Forgotten scars
Beaten back, misguided stories
Withered glass roses left to dry up in the sun

I like my spine but I can't see it
My cup is filled with regret
Overflow
caught in the undertow

I left empty hands empty
Filled cups void
and broken home fragmented

I asked her
"Is it your answer, or does it help you forget the question?"
she looked at me
Blood shot eyes
tears almost
"if I knew the question, I wouldn't be here and neither would you."
I sat in sullen bewilderment
with a stutter in my breath
and a sudden pain where my spine used to be I said
I said, "I knew you'd break through"
all she did was smile
I still see her once in a while