Shard
I am a shard,
Remnant of a broken family portrait.
Jagged and rough,
But oddly complete
I am a shard,
Shattered platter at supper.
Lamb is the main course,
A sacrificial offering to mend what was
I am a shard,
No longer complete.
My jagged edges
Sever all mutual emotion
I am a shard,
Translucent and brittle.
My hard exterior is see-through
And I break easily.
Copyright © Dylan Quesinberry | Year Posted 2016
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