Shattered glass.

I want to be shattered.

Shattered glass is so

Delicate and beautiful.

 

You see, I've always wanted

To be small. But not small

Like the pretty girls in 

Magazines without souls,

 

Not consciously, I know it

Still affects me, but as far

As my conscious goes, no.

Hell no, plastic smiles drive

 

Me insane. No. I want to be

Like shattered glass, like

Deep in thought, like

How sad days are

 

So beautiful. Like gazes out of

Windows, not like loud magazines,

But like delicate, small flowers,

Every petal flying off in a 

 

Whirlwind of self-destruction.

Watch how delicate I can become,

How I can fade away, and water

Vapour is beautiful, and nobody

 

Will tell me otherwise, dissapearing is 

Like trees in the wind, blowing, leaves

In the wind, falling from grace, an angel

With a broken wing, sing the songs of sadness.

 

Because I've convinced myself that being sad

Is beautiful, that thinking too much is beautiful,

That being small and innocent even if it costs

You everything is beautiful, so beautiful.

 

Beautiful like a sad day, a mixtape of songs

By The Smiths, and in between the songs

The sounds of crunching twigs, it's so much

Easier to just give in, and destruct, and destruction.

 

Is beautiful. At least, that's the excuse my mind

Makes for hiding, sharp, beautiful, sharp broken

Glass, shattered glass, living in the past, the excuses

My mind makes up. Listen to the call of my void.

 

Listen to me biting my nails as I push myself away

From society, society sucks, I say at the same time

I'm giving into it's demands, even if I'm 'alternative'

It's still the same, the same call of 'you don't deserve to take up space.'

 

And I fall for it like all the other idiots

Shy smiles as I cover myself up

When there's nowhere to hide

There's a panic in my mind.

 

And I shatter at every word you speak.