With something like a porcelain anger
Fingers slipping into other’s stains
Locked up such remorse for strangers
Even as we gravitate to heal these broken things

A sneer as eyes may roll in choler
Sympathies half-heartedly restrained
Slim affections held by collar
Even as we weep for how we never broke their chains

Self-reflection hidden deep
“There but by some loving grace go I”
Lost as some forbidden sleep
Even as we seek those broken things and ease the pain that made them cry