A Sentient Being

A Sentient Being
Closer than I wanted, chiseling
porcelain doubt. What remains is
clear and shiny, and broken like
a day without words. Obsolete,
your actions find no reward and it
leaves you hollow, prone to the probing
of those who misconstrue
your failure for fault. Your cave is
dim and the glorious sun only slivers
your walls occasionally. I saw your

eyes sliced by light, your pieces
sewn back together like a reminder
of the bombast. A bottle
full of words for the smashing of heads.
A floor peppered with shards,
you've become the cautious walker.
Flying fragile paper arms.
The coward's cry becomes your mantra.
Overcome by fright,
by the fear of the light of the flight.
Dismayed friends cloaked in shadow.
Dismayed friends cloaked in shame.
Oblivious to the torture and oblivious
to the hate just outside the cave,
they breathe it
in like the neighbors. I've become
a venom-less snake so sick of
slithering. Oblivious to the torture
and hate outside the cave, they
breathe it in like the neighbors
of industry. Tending to their disgusting
gardens, they feast ignorant on
polluted fruit. I cope, but my pills
grow large all the while my throat constricts.