Glass
February 12, 2021
There is a woman in Italy
Who walks on petaled glass
And makes it bend
And shape at will
Just like the men who pass
Who pass her in her evil beauty
Her steps, on very backs
The line she dances screams with pain
Distracts her from the cracks
She is blind, and sees,
A mirror none
A fault within the mask
But she makes her way right down the path
On glass
On shattered glass