The shattered glass,
the toy car without a wheel,
and a book with a torn page.

The blades of green grass,
cut by the big wheel,
withering them into a deep sage.

The crumpled cash,
the orange without the peel,
and the fabric that tends to fray.

My heart with a lowered mass,
my lips tight with a seal,
and a mind in disarray.

- Haniah