Ruptured Stomach

There are these people that write poems with glitter.
Trying to sparkle their talent in the sun.
The words are perfect, the style is great.
Not one word is spoken truth, or written for that matter.
Yet every word, is an imperfect shard of glass.
Devouring the stomach of the reader.
Vomit is true glitter, for it is gritty, and never pretentious.
True heartfelt literacy is imperfect vomit, from a ruptured stomach.
It had to happen,
It did happen,
It might not happen again.
At least if it doesn't...
This time it was real.