Non-Erotic PoetryShatterMy morals are constructed
In a glass frame above my bed
My mother pounding the nail into the wall
Gritting her teeth
Father never speaking of it but
Eyes the frame as he passes
My open door
I clean the glass
Straighten it when it goes off center
Show it off to you
I won’t let it shatter
It goes crooked
Rattles from an outside force
I move it from wall to wall
But I won’t let it shatter
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