Bones
The mirror was shattered, at least to her
the pictures were scattered, all over the floor
she saw no beauty, no light, no love
she saw horror, tragidy, nothing dreamed of
the flowers were falling, so was her soul
the moon was shining, if only she could tell once more
she said "bones, bones, bones are beautiful"
everynight
everynight
like her own little prayer
Poetry Slam: