Pisaries Creator

Cutting into an onion, I will make you cry.

Peeling away the parts you can’t eat,

will remind you of the memories,

those things not easily erased,

ever present.

Getting to the middle, I will make you know.

No matter how much you break apart the whole,

the essence remains intact,

creating disconnect,

never leaving.

Reaching the center, I will make you crumble.

Wrapping your hand around the core,

trying to cover the pain,

insistent tears.

Discarding the rest, I will make you realize.

Walking into the shadow of the day,

behind the closed door,

into unfamiliarity,

repeating again.