11. Midwinter Night

9 1 0
                                    

Once I was a glass figurine,
perfect to the eye,
fragile underneath.
Since you used
your words as weapons 

I am ground to the finest
of dust - still glass,
yet vulnerable to any gust.
I still feel pain,
so much raw pain, 

but I can't be
broken anymore.
You did your worst,
but I am still here,
sparkling in the midwinter light.  

FreedomWhere stories live. Discover now