“Slivers of My Soul” by J. Soffer

Transparent glass crashes to the floor,
Sprawled across the rug and a single stream of blood
Slithers up to the fragments.
And the pieces were me,
Collapsing as no more than a folding chair,
Deserting my soul, cracked at the roots.
And the blood was no more than a snake,
Sneaking away with my essence.
And the cuts were nothing more than
My spirit, punctured and seared.
And the noise, smashing and screaming
Was nothing more than my ego,
Slammed down and smushed.
The pieces lay there still,
Trembling hands couldn't clean it up.
My hands couldn't clean it up.