Guard

I peak outside, my nose touches the glass,

cold, but needed, pain is felt like mowed grass--

smooth, but messy, torn apart, scattered bits

cloudy and damp, my hopeless mind submits. 

But the clouds part, the sun fights to be seen. 

I see a streak, on the other side, green.

Warm and happy, floating, oddly impressed.

Then the clouds appear, shadows, feelings suppressed.

Cover the glass, pain and darkness will start.

Guarding the sun, guarding my fragile heart. 

-Belle Rose