The luminouscent backdrop of my faltering stage lights fade
From beautiful, budding blossoms of an early golden-spring day
Where the bumble bees kissed daffodils and hopeful children emerged to play
To the unremarkable tones of a colorless, yet perpetually tranquil, grey

I find myself to be shattered, like that of this glass on the cracked-tile floor of my sun-kissed - yet dreary- kitchen
Carving open my doll-like porcelain skin
When he ravages through me with the harsh tones that leave his sultry lips
Or is it I who I find to be screaming?
I am hopeless and frozen
In a vain...