Soft music flows
through every illusion.
I burn and sway,
too sick to stand.
My deepest sores,
stabbed and broken.
Alone and exposed,
I stand and step forward.
She was cracked and soft,
nervously searching.
I tried not to look,
shaking alone.
But I bled slowly,
staining the carpet.
Without a center,
I could not hide.
The people stared,
and I was afraid.
My stomach squeezed.
I tried to be still.
Lonely and aching
for the touch
of a promise,
I cried empty tears.
Pieces of me
lay shattered and
gasping on the ground
in silent agony.
Through the tears
and the shaking,
I said a prayer.
The people sang.
The balcony is cold,
high in the wind.
There is gentle pain
in looking down.
It spreads quietly,
and I don't realize it.
Then I dare look up.
The clouds are so dark.
They groan and move,
and I close my eyes.
I try to remember
the sky and the sun.