Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

shatter the stone

broken glass
slipping through
my hands.

looked like
rain bows…

under the sun.

shattered
pieces
upon the ground

if it’s so
silent
why do
i hear them
fall ing.

hide the
sharp shards
in my heart.

puncture me—
no blood will flow

broken glass.




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback