A metaphor for for broken people,
Like glass wings that break
At the slightest effort of flight.
With shards that cut like paper
Leaving webs of pain through
Open arms, we
Find ways to make ouselves happy again
By sacrificing the little things
Just enough to make me feel melancholy,
Like aquamarine with a hint of
Crushed dreams to color me brighter.
They say that not all stars shine bright,
But the ones who do
Simply die brighter.