Are all that's left.
Shards of glass between the feet and the street.
Shards of glass to pick up and use.
To break the flesh.
"Go ahead, cut yourself", people say.
"Cut someone else."
Broken questions in the pieces of night.
Broken souls that have become questions with no answers.
Shards of people on the shards of a world.
Some look to the sky and ask,
"Why are we even here?"
To listen. To feel.
We come here to mend,
And to try to learn some kindness.
previously in Medusa's Kitchen