Snap—

Snap—

the strap cracked, leather shattering under my rage.

Edges ragged like burned paper,

a wound on the worn-out skin of my backpack.

Regret blooms quick, a bruise beneath my ribs,

pressing sharp where my fists loosen.

Why did I let the anger bite so deep?

Now it dangles useless, a loose end

like all the things I wished I hadn’t snapped.

I stare at the ruin, hands trembling,

a quiet apology caught in the broken leather’s curl.