Glass in My Brain

Some things are like

glass in my brain—

shards that shimmer

but never shine 

They shred my thoughts 

lay bare the core 

and leave me bleeding 

without a wound 

Every memory splinters 

even the gentle ones 

Every word cuts deep 

even the ones meant to heal 

Fragments of pain

I cannot sweep away 

I turn my head 

and feel the jagged edges shift—

the unrelenting, cruel geometry

of truths I cannot unlearn 

My anchor is broken 

I can feel myself drift 

Reaching for the sound of your voice 

but the shards distort it to silence 

I am both the wound

and the one who bleeds 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

August 1, 2025