Journal

Shatter me into pieces,
Like confetti thrown in parties
To make people happy

but don't hurt me

Just shatter me with a hole puncher
till your hands hurt
And there's no more of me
to hole punch

I'll be different colors
scattered on the floors

People will step on me -
one after the other
But then come and swipe me off
my feet
and gathered all my pieces
into a container-
not into the trash can

keep me in a box
then take me to the sea
throw me
Like ashes blown away
by the wind-
Let me be free.

I'll be scattered all around
the globe.

I'll be everywhere
and yet nothing.
I will disappeared.

But with me-
I'll take your story
of how your hands
Hurt, but how
they don't hurt
anymore.

You feel free.