The Empty Street of Broken Glass


As though she walked an empty street of broken glass with naked feet.
She knows a truly hopeless kind of pain,
A heart not knowing love before, deceived until it trusts no more,
An aimless soul with nothing left to gain.

Inside a box she keeps herself and stores it safely on the shelf,
A sanctuary under lock and key.
Escaping from the failed attempts to fight the feelings of contempt,
While waiting for her faith to set her free.

Still ever faithful to her vows despite the life that it allows,
She wonders if it is a life at all,
The hopeless pain, the empty street, the broken glass, the bloody feet,
The aimless soul with no one left to call.

She shares her thoughts without concern, with others who might not discern,
her spirit from her dire reality,
And somehow she can grip their hearts, alluring them in fits and starts,
Allowing her a sense of sanity.

Never one to look for more than what she was intended for,
At least from her perspective once foretold,
A sudden whisper from behind, regains her heart a second time,
Restoring back its worth of solid gold.

If ever there were truer love or anyone more worthy of
the happiness that healed her source of grief,
They , too, have surely walked the street of broken glass with naked feet
And bled, and cried and prayed for some relief.

With nothing sure except the box that held her back behind the locks,
Not a sanctuary; instead, a dungeon hold,
She escaped the bonds that kept her bound, her prince awaits, her carriage found,
A Cinderella story finally told.

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