Glass shatters slowly,
inch by inch,
creating a canyon
so deep the bottom
bathes in a venomous
darkness.

It is not stagnant,
creeping along the chasm bottom
like fingers grasping a cane.
The gouge is it’s security,
providing cover for wicked intent;
it climbs the walls,
cresting the banks,
pouring into a soul
quickly shrouded in a yawning
darkness;

The canyon spreads,
growing ever deeper,
cut by a  shard embedded
within soft flesh,
a splinter, causing
infection to spread past
the margin.

Night floods the soul,
slinking into word and resolve;
the apple is consumed day after day
in a horrendous ritual;
a once alluring
glass facade shatters.

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