Eating glass for breakfast,
the crunch of the edges only makes you smile.
It's been a hard life.
Stuffed animals with the fur worn off,
scratched black plastic eyes.
Nothing reflected there and
no mercy for the weak.
It's been a hard life.
And when the traffic light flicks orange,
for just a moment you bow your head,
and feel the sadness rage through.
Then grimace, accelerate and go forward.
No one there to help
and forward is all that is left.
Choking on your breath, and forward
leads to a special kind of hell.
But nothing to do for it.
Forward and onward.
It's been a hard life.