~~The Wall, The Sky and Me~~

Whether it's peace or practiced grace, A mosaic of chaos and a porcelain face. Like grains of sand, a million wounds in disguise, Swirled in colors that learned not to blend or rise. You seek beauty and avoid the war. You hear poetry, but not what it's for. A rage refined, absurdly still, Dances the line by stubborn will. Reflective, ridiculous, cracked but divine, I hold my ruin like a holy shrine. -_-