in part,
my heart
is made of glass;
alas,
i ache
to be opaque
a rose
that grows
of purest red,
instead
of all
that makes it fall
disguise
and lies
have been my way,
today
this debt
this dark regret
these words
all birds
that swiftly pass:
this empty life
that’s made
of glass
Sometimes I feel like I can be easily broken too, great poem! 🙂
Thank you!
Even broken glass reflects the sun and words pass from soul to soul. Yours are often uplifting and always worth reading.