3 May 2012
This is a poem I wrote many years ago when I was in a much darker place than I am now! ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ My pebbles keep on falling into the pond. I try to halt them. With my hands, One open, One gloved. But still they keep on falling.
Sometimes I don't sense them falling. Others splash, And water covers my face. My splashes then touch you, And I feel guilty.
Thinking how to curb my pebbles falling, Doesn't stem the flow. And I wonder if others hold them? The guilty water splashers, With droplets on their face.
But I revel in the splashes. I like to feel cracked and sore, While others shine like glass. I need to feel connected, Make sure that I belong.
Then, persecuted, I pretend that I am made of glass.
Pebbles • Opuss № I