"I need your grace to remind me
to find my own"
I'm curled up on the bed
headache pounding in my head.
Music wafts in gentle drifts up
the wires into waiting ears.
I have no grace.
My body is a mess of mountainous terrain,
my life, just simply, a mess.
The tears drip irritatingly from my eyes
falling as depressed clichés.
Images roll through my mind as I
dictate, a way to control destiny,
even if it's false prophecy: I see.
I see me beating myself to splinters;
nose bleeding, teeth chipped
And bruises forming. Violence awaits -
but I only see through my tears.
Can you break a teardrop?…
When you smile at me…