I got mad so
I snatched it up in my tight fist
Raised it high above my head
And with all my might
Propelled it into the cold hard ground
I watched it shatter into a million shards
And it felt good
Until I noticed my reflection in every tiny, shiny piece
Staring back at me breathless
And red with rage
Twisted and contorted
Into a being I did not recognise
Eyes filled with hate
So I fell to my knees amongst them
Got out the glue
Collected the million shards
And slowly, patiently tried to put them back together
But the scars were still visible
And it was never quite the same
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Author:
jenny.g (
Offline) - Published: April 15th, 2023 18:23
- Comment from author about the poem: The words we wish we could unsay. The deeds we wish we could undo.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments2
And if felt good. That metaphor is so descriptively perfect as our need for immediate satisfaction wins and then later we wish it hadn’t. Creatures prone to seek immediate gratification momentarily try to hide and deny the immaturity that is all of us.
Facing our deeds is half the battle in the path to personal growth. Thank you for your words
Dig! I wrote I piece and just posted it a few days ago titled END OUT and it speaks to that. I’d be honored if you read it?
If I may, as women, we feel more regret in expressing our rage. “Until I notice my reflection, in every tiny shiny piece” I liked the tone and energy of this piece.
I agree. Thank you for your words.
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