Perspective

He brought it up to his face,
To take a better look at it.
Though it was raining outside;
It was damp and shivered with anxiety.
Cold, brilliant schisms were present,
But went unannounced.
Vapid and empty, let’s call this space
“Harmony”

He smiled.
“This is my purpose.”

Crawling to the edge of his palm, he
Extended his other hand to catch it
Confident smothering.
Sacrifice denied.
There was no purpose, just hollow points.