glass on the ground,
cracked and broken and sticking
into the feet of those who walk,
without the caution to stop
and tread lightly.
people passing the prospects
of secured visions,
into the shattered propositions
that never pan out,
never stand enough to break code.
so keep it slow,
just so the boat won't tip
as we row,
as we floor the burden to 
keep the world turning;
wounds burning in the sunshine.