Poetry Corner: Pretty

I must be pretty.

I must be pretty because I am broken and

pretty things have a habit of being damaged.

Rainbow seas of scallop shells lie on beaches--

shattered.

Some have their edges chipped away,

the abuse of harsh seas.

Some have little holes like self-inflicted wounds.

The pretty ones are always broken.

So I must be pretty,

because I am broken.

(Listening to "Elias"~~Dispatch. "hold my hand just one more time...")