I am fragmented and fragile,
glassy remanants of a life slipping away
into the dormant moments that gently linger,
listing to the whims of the wayward winds.
Should I worry now when the world grows weary,
or should I hide in the horrors I know of,
there are places in the mind where the heart
lies shattered, and in those places that face me
I see worlds upon worlds that I have been a part of.
I will wait, though I know in my waiting
sits the demons of delirium with claws outstretched,
waiting, always waiting for me to fall,
but I shall not fall, not today,
but do not ask of me what tomorrow holds
for it is my claws clinging to the moment,
listening to the fabric of my time shredding,
and I cannot expend the energy to go so far
as tomorrow for I am too fragmented, and fragile.








