Promises are made to be broken

But when did I become as fragile as a promise

Throw the vase against the wall

And smile

As the life goes out of it

You ever wanted to cry

At the sight of a bent reflector

In a line of perfectly straight others

I have

Because I feel it

Coursing through my veins

Like an old bruise that still stings

Or the poison in a dismissal

I know what that feels like

To be the one

Who's incomplete

One day I keep hoping

They'll pull me out of the ground

And take me away from here


I don't know about my stories right now but I'm been getting back into my poetry so I'd thought I'd post it instead.

My poetry is nothing like my stories so... be warned. They do not come from the same mood/mind frame that my fiction does.

Plueeeaase review.