My Private Life Poem by Samson Nyarima

My private life is
Broken china on wet asphalt
Trying to gleam but only a dull reflection
Of once art remain,
They are jagged
No longer tender to touch
This crossing
That was never done to the full
Indifferent wheels crunch
Their stubborn will almost to powder
But they still are discernible
Parts of jaded glass-bits
On a perimeter fence
A guarded atmosphere, broken
Lying on a wet asphalt
Tomorrow, washed away, gone