"... jagged shards that pierce my soles
with every ginger pass..."
I’m looking over my shoulder
with every move I make,
double check the twists and turns,
so I don’t bend or break
your fragile sense of right and wrong
that’s pure and bright and harsh,
the caution wraps around my throat
with every step I march.
Those eggshells that I’m walking on
are made of broken glass,
jagged shards that pierce my soles
with every ginger pass
that forces me to grit and bear
when words are turned to slight,
the caution chains my thoughts and sounds
and folds around my sight.
The blinders that you’ve fixed me with
are working out quite well,
eradicates the outside world
and keeps me in my shell
so you don’t have to fear the cost
of if my eyes should stray,
the caution rides my shoulders down
with every passing day.
Copyright © 2009 Stone Bryson. All Rights Reserved.
Written February 2009