Because I Wish to be Broken

What raging wind brought your fury that

shook the mountains, throwing stones into the

unbroken rhythm

of the stream below?

 

After which winter storm did

the furrow in your brow become permanent?

 

From which cliff’s edge did you spread your wings to

cast off thoughts too gruesome and delicate for one mind

to handle on it’s own?

 

Which snowflake did you wish to be?

Unique, alas, snowflakes melt when they hit solid ground.

Remorse ends with the last breath.