fate has a middle name

by Shonda Creemer

she stares at her reflection
in the semi-clear puddle
kneeling down
she dips her finger in
touches her own cheek
distorting the person looking back at her

this stranger

she yearns for something tangible
something she can throw against the wall
and smash into a million glittery pieces

falling like confetti on her parade

as the procession passes by
they step on her bits
picking up tiny glimpes of her
and carry them on
to the next street
to the next town
to the next forever


Posted on 05/01/2011
Copyright © 2024 Shonda Creemer

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