Maybe someday I'll get over
watching all my dreams shattered
like broken glass
all over the warehouse floor
and I'm curled in the corner
cold and dark
the sunlight filters in through the windows
faded, pale
and there are my dreams
little slivers
little shards
cracked like broken mirrors
all over
the floor
and I'm curled up in the corner
barefoot
with my kerchief over my head
watching the dust mites filter down
and too tired
to pick up the pieces
too hopeless
to move.
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