plastic
- Delia M.M. Crowley
- Apr 6, 2021
- 1 min read
Some shed tears of crystals
- but not me.
I spill melted plastic.
Recycled fears
pooled by a lighter.
Don't let my gray eyes fool you -
They will burn too,
along with my heart,
that we pretend is gold.
But no, its plastic.
When I am heated
my crying kills the ocean.
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