Broken Child

broken because I write this

fractured into keys and strokes that extend from the wrist

thoughts from a heretic busted on bliss

the world is kind

when you look through glass eyes

at pixels and screens

the same things we see when we dream

these boats with wings wrecked in the clouds

torn apart by what cannot be seen

fallen from cerulean city highs

the ground we thought was ours to defy

splayed like child angels in the snow

suspended from the world we strive to know

I shout out rhymes and songs to hold on

pieces I've salvaged, memories saved

build an ark of these jagged bits

to float my life through this piddling myth

with the hope that one day I can make sense of this

[From April 28, 2008]