Dedicated to Ben
I found a shattered glass mirror
And I squeezed the shards in my hand
In hopes that a little blood on my reflection
Would help me piece it back together
Then I think about the peanuts in peanut butter
How, under a little pressure, they break down individually
Under the weight of the machine
How it smoothes them into a coherent mess
And these days I find myself
Spread thin and broken
Like glass in peanut butter
Trying to become whole again
