A Thousand Splendid Pieces

... I've got writer's block... so this isn't great.

The red of my heart stays broken,
its shapes won't fit together,
 not even as a jigsaw no more...

The pieces crumbled to
the floor of my stomach
and became seeds I can't
be forced
to grow...

But they do,
the acid, it's nourishing,
causing my reality to faulter...

My reality to
grow softer
like the patter of
these broken pieces...

Author's Note

my eyes are broken, help me fix.

Reviews

[Philosophile. (Maddy)]

I enjoyed this. You portray the heart as having a mind of its own. It's beyond our control, no matter what we try to do to it. I also agree that this was genius. It's one of my favorite types of poetry, the kind that rejects the established rules and faces the world independently. The influence of your heart on reality is also intriguing. This got me thinking!

[A LaDy NaMeD D]

when i have writers block...i don't write lol, it doesn't even seem as if you have writers block i liked it.


D

[Jane Doe]

A very good piece for someone suffering from writer's block. Quite powerful and evocative!

[Mr. Misanthrope]

The pain that haunts this world is unimaginable. This poem is nothing more than a recounting of torture felt by someone experienced in that field. This is shown by the anguish you describe in stanza four, the kind of pain that feels good, to let you know that you're still on this earth and not dreaming, that you're still human, and can therefore get hurt as easily as the next person. Only in your case, its neutral. If ever the pain comes back to satisfy its hunger with your screams, you will either be ready for it, or else be incapable of bearing it once more.

Thanks for the request. Great read!

Luke