You Make Me Sad by Anonymous

Words trickle from a cracked open skull
Pouring from the shattered wound
My hands cup to catch the shards
Cutting me as shimmering glass razors
And paining the hands that try to place them.

Verse is a jigsaw puzzle made of smoke
Transforming whenever fingers touch
to a new illusion of maddening complexity
that challenges my comprehension

Vocabulary is my toolbox
The surgical instruments I use to tend the wounds
pulling shrapnel from my grey matter
and stem the tears of frustration.

hands numb like frostbitten stumps
reacting as sloths to the pack of cheetah
hunting through the heard of my mind
To thin the weak and easily found

I reach into the murky depths
Feeling through the silt of synonyms
Debris of fallen metaphors
emerging coated in muck

With filthy fingers I try to paint
Picasso as an ignorant child
Cave paintings from a mind that wishes
to write the blueprint for a soul.