It wasn't the fall that broke it

It wasn't the boy that broke it

It was always broken

-

And he reached deep into the broken glass cup

And with trembling fingers

Pulled out some pieces

Half glass

Half himself

-

Like the way he was born

With two hands

One holding a dream

And the other empty

Clenched into a fist made to fight

-

The edges were slippery and cold

Like chunks of ice

But there was no way to tell what was colder

The ice

Or the blood

-

The shards made a million reflections of him

An ear, a shoe, a pocket

A tear, a sob

It made the floor a sea

And he was drowning

-

The sink asked the cabinet

Who asked the oven who asked the toaster

Who asked the table who asked the blender

"Why does he shake like that?"

-

The glass was a glass

The boy was a boy

The boy was the glass

The glass was the boy
-

And they were always broken