My Glass Balloon

It is the crack formed on a plane of glass
Which was not there yet a moment before.
Caused perhaps by temperatures which shift en masse,
But that no one else could feel outside the door
Leaving me alone to wonder and to answer for
A reaction I had no control over, a reaction for which I had no say.
I lack the ability to pretend the same rapport;
I wish I could just run away.

I pretend the crack will pass,
Return to the unfettered crystal who swore
When I was born that nothing at all could harass
What I held within, forever to store.
I look again and pretense has only given me more,
More cracks which under pressure appear to sway
In my eyes, as though my head weren’t already sore.
So I wish I could run away.

And when the glass balloon’s image becomes a trespass
Of sensible description, the sphere no longer a core,
I tremble to keep everything in order – do I pass
As though I have succeeded to ignore
The cracks that I’ve convinced myself others would deplore?
The cracks that throw me into the fray
Of reality, where everyone knows how to fight the war?
The war from which I wish I could run away.

The sound of shattered glass comes in like a roar,
Leaving me with nothing but my empty mind to stray.
Empty as the beach, with no waters at the shore.
Where I regret the moment I ran away.

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