pale and cracked,
the egg falls
and spills it's guts onto
the tiled
floor
a yellow pollack sort of mess.
it's beautiful
in a sad sort of way
against the black
and white,
the sheen of window
light.
still holding the cold glassy
stare
of once a promising
life.
the egg falls
and spills it's guts onto
the tiled
floor
a yellow pollack sort of mess.
it's beautiful
in a sad sort of way
against the black
and white,
the sheen of window
light.
still holding the cold glassy
stare
of once a promising
life.
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