The greatest insult

We can all see in tones,
guessing how they feel
while the ends split
and their eyes cross.
This stranded feeling
of a full room,
so low to the ground
and completely unaware,
breaks us into
these plastic shards
that are all
sharp enough to hurt,
yet too dull to kill.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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