About Us......

our sensitivities
grow in a glass house
hardened
by incoming stones

who is afraid of the pieces
of broken glasses?
our wrists are experienced
sufferers
they heal themselves in
due time
we know what the word
endure means
by heart
we are devoured somehow
but still whole
in those vomits
do they find us bitter pills?
don't they know that we are the cure
of those unreasonable fears?

those stones turn out
to be marshmallows getting more
delicious looking
at the flames
on those cold evenings
beneath the
darkness in the forest

we eats stones
no longer afraid of indigestion
our guts
have kept the morning glories
glorious gods
with hardened walls

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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