Broken Bottles&Lilies (Part 1.)

Teenage writing

Broken bottles and lilies
Littering my kitchen
Me of everything.
Of everything I’ve endured.
Skin turned to stone,
But still easily broken.
Slat fingertips stained
In ink, and the sound
Of my pencil scratching
On ripped paper and tapping keys.
I tread carefully over the broken bottles.
Afraid of getting cut
Again, but the lilies
Somehow protect me
From their wrath.
But my stone hide is
Shattered by their
Softness and sickly
Sweet smell.
I can’t stand the smell
Of the beautiful flower
So I throw
And break more bottles.
Only start at the beginning again.


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