• like glass that breaks upon small fingers
    and papercuts that leave no scars, lights that
    tend to burn out rather quickly
    allows the frost on my window to grow, into

    a child who knows only suffering, watching
    the wings being picked off of a butterfly
    and innocence unwillingly lost inside
    a heart that has lost it's beat

    his symphony bleeds the notes, that can
    cause a world to change
    and rise with the tides that seem to drown out
    a childs laughter