Broken
i lay here and look at the skycursing God and asking why
was i put upon the earth?
brought to be through painful birth?
should i give thanks for a painful breath?
im more inclined to thank for death
my broken heart like glass returns to sand
slipping through my painful broken hands
my broken eyes cannot read what i have wrote
my broken sobs caught in my broken throught
like a vase tossed aside
once thought to be a source of pride
but when i start to lay in waste
your cold shoulder is all i face
this silver knife, sharp and true
and somehow reminds me of you
caught my heart in one swift slice
i thank thee, for end of life
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