Poemhead

Mirrors

The cracked mirror shatters

Into bits of broken dreams

A soft heart in tatters

Pillow muffled screams

 

A thousand gleaming shards

A million dying songs

Recorded by the bards

On sale before long

 

Trapped by forlorn ecstasy

Within each tiny piece

Choirs singing joyously

Heart’s beatings cease

 

This twinkling broken mass

Lay on the dusty ground

None care as they pass

The dead scattered all around

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s