Broken Glass

I stepped upon the broken glass, upon the broken misery

But I'd laced my boots too tightly to care about the memory

I defined everything that had no name, so there is not

Anything left away to rot.

I stepped upon the broken glass, the shattered memory

But I forgot all of it too soon to feel the misery

Each step held me farther, kept me away

All I did told me not to stay.

But I stayed and it made no sense that I should

When hearing that I just knew that I could

What is a heart to the soul, and what's wrong

If I just wait until I wait for too long?

What's wrong if I keep in mind the story

And tell it later, so I can get the glory

And what's wrong if I refuse to pass

The threats of this still breaking glass?