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Picture Courtesy: Pinterest

Shards of glass etching into my skin,
They’re now resident in the layers within.
The keys of this keyboard,
The words you say.
They push the pieces far beneath.
A bout of blood silently oozes out,
Spouting the poison in me,
I notice it wiggle out of my skin,
Onto the ground, it drops.
A long while later,
Made of glass, now I am,
Brittle and fragile, I’ve become.
Inch by inch, you nudge me to my end,
Pushed over the edge, I am.
Shards of glass scattered over the floor,
You don’t notice me beneath.
You walk over me, wounding yourself,
And it’s now I feel the pain.

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