Broken Breakfast

Even hard boiled eggs crack when you drop them,
Or throw them
With cruel intentions, or maybe
A sign of letting go
It’s freedom, found in a small act of destruction
It’s the fuck you, I’m in control
And these eggs were perfectly good
Could have been eaten with salt and pepper
But today they had to fly
Headlong into cement
Fracturing, to show their breaking point
While I wrestled the weight of the world
And cooked myself something
sunny side up


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