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The Fixing of the Glass Chest

When the heart opens up to spill thoughts from within
That are forcefully rejected at best,
The heart must heal quickly before the fragile, breakable, red glass cracks all the way through,
And falls to pieces.
And so the waters of the soul flow
Gently over the opening.
The trickling water cleans it and washes away the blood,
To tightly sow it shut once again.
But the soul’s water is now tainted,
Holding within itself the remnants of the thoughts that hurriedly buried themselves
Back within the glass chest.
So they wash through the body in a frenzy,
Looking for an escape
As to not poison the rest of the body or the soul.
Until finally, they tip over
The brim of your eyes to
Drop
Your salty sorrows upon the barren floor,
And disappear into the ground,
Never to be seen again.



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