Saturday, March 29, 2008

Porcelain that’s splattered
with one little speck
turns into worthless
it turns into death

I am that porcelain
I am regret
The darkness inside me
Is pouring out yet

Terrible, terrible
Stain on my soul
The more that I scrub
The less that is goes

Desolate, empty
Perhaps terrified
Covered in ugly
I can’t ever hide.

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