27d (edited) • Share Your Writing! 📖
Transgressions
Anger is a river I cannot cross,
A fractured mosaic, with fragments of glass
strewn atop the bottom of its bed,
tiptoeing into it’s imperceptible depth
my every breath focusing on the next step,
light as a feather, one foot,
then the other;
Screaming violently silent inside,
internally steaming, boiling over the stream
and seeping through skin in tones,
demanding tunes my voice struggles to stay ahead of,
a pairing of notes from a mandolin
with the stoicism of a mannequin
to preserve what humanity remains unblemished,
to preserve the small semblances of peace;
Piece by piece I am picking and sifting through the shatter,
shifting tinier and tinier shards with sharper edges
and watching air oxidize
what is within before forcing itself out
between small scratches, bleeding into the river
and skewing its color like a palette to paint with.
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Transgressions
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