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Stand Still
Your shape is like that of other men
and like them
you check the mirror to see where you stand
manufactured sorrow
splits the sky in two
pieces of permanent ruin
one for me
and one for you
you made a meal of my wide-eyed youth
another statistic
another death sentence
another box that this secret was kept in
and yes
when used improperly
your body is a lethal weapon
a lesson in trespassing
on childhood angst
it manufactures sorrow
and splits my sky in two
pieces of permanent ruin
one for me
and one for you.
poem
by
Harlequin Rose
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