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She collects glass bottles
In rows upon her shelf
Keeps them always closed up tight
And seals away herself

She fills them up with sadness
And she fills them up with tears
With blood and ghosts and memories
With thoughts and dreams and fears

Her most precious bottle
With which she'll never part
She keeps it the darkest corner
And it contains her heart

The glass is stained with grief and shame
It's chipped and smeared with dust
Edges worn with too many years
Of anger and distrust

It's known its share of heartache
It's felt the steely rain
It's had its share of lovin'
It rode those waves of pain

She can't say where it started
But the collection's growing fast
And she fears that she'll come home someday
And find it's only glass
this one is quite personal, one of few that is. and it's less of a metaphor than some of you may think.
just-for-giggles Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
This is really beautiful. It's good that you can share it, even though it's personal.
Acinonyx-rex Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you
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Submitted on
August 19, 2012
File Size
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