Life is a cruel Mistress
Master of slow torture and mirage
Pleasure and pain wound tightly together
One hand offering sweet sustenance with gentle fingers
While the other claws and scratches at your core
Coldly kicking with pointy toed boots
To tip the smooth clear glass of our contentment
Shattering into sharp little pieces around our feet
And we, the truly masochistic souls that we are
Try to pick them up with soft fragile fingers
Razor edges tearing and rending our blood filled hearts
As we attempt to fit them back together every time