Broken Line



As I sit on this stone gazing into my future there is a broken line there is a broken line when I count the cracks in my ceiling before sleep engulfs me there is a broken line at the table, next to the desk, beside my place, there is always a broken line everywhere I go, this line forms a shape familiar to a murder scene your shadow would fit most perfectly in this ghostly shape but I look back and realize all I have is this broken line.