Mass Production

A party of feet celebrate stomping on me
I’m pressed and crushed 
My skin breaks off
It’s so painful

Enough already
But it doesn’t stop
Stomped, pressed, crushed

I’m completely undone
I’m separated from myself
Never to be put back together again
Pieces of me lost forever

What’s left of me?

I’m tipped over in a liquid form
I’m poured into a bottle of gold and pure glass
I’m sealed with velvet-red love wax

I’m not sure how much time has past
But the bottle is opened
I’m poured into a chalice of pure gold and rimmed with emeralds

I’m sipped on

I hear Him say:
“Yes, the purest of wines”
“Aged to perfection”
“I name this wine”
“Calluna’s Bloom”
“Let the world taste what I have intended”