A knife slash on a biological knot
Ending nine months of painful feast.
A drop of blood that began my reality.
Cared, pampered, silver spoon spoilt.
Warped reality, alluring illusions.
Wrapped in a warm moral blanket,
Sheltered in a house of mirrors.
Images of self, sparking the future.
Home made plans, ruminant headaches.
All-commanding mirrors force control
On a young child's stomach and mind,
On a young man's stubble and cock,
On a labourer's sweat and alliance,
On an old man's story and grave.
I gathered courage, hammered my way.
Eventuated googol bits of shattered glass.
Images of self all around me.
Past, present, future, history.
Truth silently hid in smoke.
A dozen silly untold lies haunted.
Hours of regret for my broken home.
Hours of guilt for evaporated sweat.
Hours of morbid self-realisation.
As I lie amid those broken bits,
Involuntary wit of my hands conjured
A collage of my past adventures.
A hundred eyes of mine disillusioned.
Some reflective, some plain lost.
A hundred faces of mine reborn.
Some sad, some with grinding teeth.
A hundred arms of mine reached for me.
Some strong, some with veins that bled.
Brimming with remorse, disheartened
Sought refuge among those bits.
Just another piece of glass
Still large enough to be broken.
