bottle

tears fall from my eyes

as i rip the guts out

of a really good book.

i reach out for my next victim,

and slaughter it too.

shredded papers fall

like a feather off an old bird.

this bottle i've kept inside

has been shaken and battered

and has finally blown.

i fall to my knees,

and sob over the mangled bodies

that once were

the hunger games,

lovely war,

and the other sister.

i sobbed over them,

like a mother would over her dead son.

my bottle has finally blown,

and i am broken in the aftermath.