Musings

I am an untapped well of
Bitter bile. Run while you can.
For the slightest push of your hand

Is poison Overflowing.

“I’ll grind your bones to make my bread,” you say.
“Please do, dear Giant, for my bones are glass
And everyone knows what wonders
Ground glass can do for one’s constitution.”

My bones are glass, my heart is stone-
Broken into two pieces, three, four, five?
I’m too exhausted to care, really
Let me know if you can find it.

Be sure to dust off the sand and dirt
Use duct tape to put it back together
Everyone, dear soul, knows duct tape cures all.
Too bad it hurts like a bitch when you rip it off.

It hurts like a bitch but I promise
It’s the only time I ever really feel.
So please, make me scream like a little…
I beg you to just let me feel something.

If I scream too loud so as to annoy your sensitivities
I’ll let you pour sand down my throat.
Let me choke and stop pretending to try
Unless, of course, you get off watching me drown.

I guess that’s ok then, too. You’ll just
Build me back up again because don’t you know?
The more heat you apply to sand,
It just becomes glass again.