I pick through the rubble
For remnants of my heart.
All these troubled, shattered
Parts (my students, my friends,
My family, my self, all
The detritus that falls
Along the way) stand like
Broken teeth cutting my tongue
As I try to speak of things
Best left unspoken. Not
Out of some misguided
Etiquette do I keep silent,
Rather a deep exhaustion
With having to explain motives,
Rationales, deep beliefs
Developed through time, both
To myself and the ever-present
Judges of normality, while
Remaining cognizant of the
Fragility of our souls
To hear the unfettered opinions
We speak when we are alone.
It is hard enough to follow
The blade of pointed self-reflection
As it descends deeper through the layers
Of deception I donned with such ease;
Much less so to slice into the soul
Of another for the sheer delight
Of proving I can eviscerate
You as easily as I surrender my own skin.
And so I move through the smoldering heaps,
The maudlin nodes of my mistakes,
Treasuring each emotional shard
I unearth as if it meant something
More than what I make of my life.

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