These words I've written lie in front of me,
Broken, fragments in my head,
Coming forward to tell a story,
Of every word spoken and said.

Like broken fragments of glass fallen from the sky,
Glittering in the sun's light,
Though deadly, dangerous, approached with caution,
Pushing their way out of sight.

Take a look in the mirror, see the image staring back,
Now think of everything you can to explain,
Why you find faults in such unnatural beauty,
Washed off and broken down in the rain.

Now take those words and write them down,
Exaggerate, change, compare, explore,
Let the words become the story,
There's always that and so much more.

It's not enough to get you anywhere,
When the readers stop reading everything you write,
Being written off as a no good piece of talent-less garbage,
But it's still enough to get you through the night.