Throwing Stones
I can see her.
I watch her through a bubble of fragile glass.
Sometimes she talks to me.
I hear her voice.
I hear all the words she throws my way.
Sometimes angry,
Sometimes sad.
Always full of pain.
I try to answer her.
I try to comfort her.
Soothe her fears way.
She doesn't hear me.
She doesn't seem to think I'm there.
In her little bubble of glass,
I watch her drowning in the rain.
I watch her throwing stones
They shatter against the glass.
Shards spray out and cut deep.
Some wounds bleed.
Some wounds hide.
As the water rises we both begin to die.
