Bad memories are like shards of broken glass.
A looking glass into the past that cut me deep every time I think of them.
Lodged in my mind buried deep into the scarred mess that I am.
What was once a fragile structure, a sparkling glass house of hopes and dreams now lays in tatters around me.
Walking through the wreck, I let the images slice me, shred me.
Both tears and blood flow to soak the ground around me.
I see the past, I see the pain, I walk through the battlefield of what I once was and mourn for who I used to be.