Spineless

Crumbling at the very core of my being 
Dropped on my spine and now I find 
My spine is made of glass 

Wax veined, moth to the flame 
Bones grind, dropped on my spine 

Bloodstained glass in the sand 
Softly slaughter the lamb 
So slow, knife in my back 
Remains like needle tracks 

Beautiful words are seldom true 
Tongue of thorns, my spine is glass 

Spineglass 

My spine is glass