Broken Glass Cuts Deeply

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

I used to have a purpose
But now I'm a desolate soul
They tag me a menace
As I wander these empty roads

My soul was beautiful
And then it was hurt
Now they call me the devil
Oh, but I think not.

How is it that you’re surprised?
You know the truth but choose a disguise
I am the result of your wicked ways
The monster you carefully made

An African proverb says
The child the village shirks
Will burn it down to feel its warmth
So cheers to glowing embers 
and the spectacle of falling ash.