Sunday, February 27, 2011

Broken Windows

Some mornings, the bastards are already in your head
You sense them just before waking
Eroding whatever gentleness grew there in the night
And you know
That today, you'll have to fight hard
Just to keep a smile on your face
And your finger off the trigger
Because you understand
That the collective human spirit
Is so fragile right now
So thin and frightened
That the smallest pebble
Incautiously thrown
Could shatter the works
And maybe that's alright
And maybe that's your light
Beginning to dim
Like young love
Like a sunset
Like glass

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