Short Stories and Prompt Postings

My Hands are Made of Stardust

My hands are made of stardust.

My heart is made of glass.

I clap my hands over my heart, and everything seems to shatter fast.

I feel myself breaking, and falling apart. My head is spinning, I don't know which is way is witch. I'm fumbling and stumbling, and I'm exhausted. I can't seem to grasp anything, I can't grasp anything, I can't grasp anything.

I feel like I'd been holding something heavy for years, for months, for weeks, and days. What have I been holding? What have I been held?

My shoulders ache, my elbow bends, and my hands are made of stardust.

I'm tired, I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm... so tired.

My hands are made of stardust.

My heart is made of glass.

My heart feels like its being pulled in different directions. My glass heart cant pull, my glass heart cant bend. Unless it's burnt to a crisp to be pulled and deformed and shaped. You pull any harder, and it'll shatter in your hands.

I try to grab your hands, to take the glass out, and help- but my hands are made of stardust. My hands are made of stardust, and I can't do anything.

My hands, they sparkle, they glitter, they're beautiful. They're perfectly manicured, and lotioned, with glitter adorning all. My hands are made of stardust, but as beautiful as they are- it seems I can't get anything done. My glitter, my hands- my stardust- my fingers.

I am.. 

I do not know what I am.

I know that I am me, but I feel my elbows turn to stardust.. my heart falls further into my chest.

I do not know. I do not know. 

I am, who I am, but who am I?

My hands are made of stardust, and for a while I was known as just that. But now the stardust is eating me, and I don't know if I'll survive.

I feel like I'm suffocating. I feel like I'm a threat. If I continue to grow, will I be anything left?

My hands are made of stardust, and soon my elbows will be too. 

Who am I? Who am I?

Who are you?

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This was just a rant writing.