Broken Glass

The sound that you make when you walk

is the sound of the life that used to be me

things breaking your feet is my past

that never made it out alive to see the

light of day, my dreams that never

came true. The plans that I had for

you. The life that I used to live is

just making me dig in a

deeper hole with no way that tells

me how to leave. My past is

sharp like a rose bush

as Bright as the sun. That life ended

with a crash of a car. Pieces

everywhere just like the life

that I had. It is now broken glass.

Seven years of bad luck, more like

sever years of a new life

well lived.

*Note: This poem was written by one of the students from the CYA, Sha’haun Davis.