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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2143131
A freestyle poem about being broken. Written as an emotional outlet.
Never try to fix a broken glass, for you will get cut.

Even if you bear through the cuts the glue will render it unusable.

Never will you drink of it.

Perhaps if one is a glass smith they can “Fix” it

But if melted and rebuilt is it truly the same?

Or is it merely a new glass?


If a shirt is torn well one can stitch it

They can “Fix” it

But forever there will be a scar on that shirt

The stitches will show forever

You will never want to wear it because it is still broken


When you broke your favorite toy as a child

It felt like you yourself were broken

The difference was when you got a new toy

You felt better

You forgot about the broken one


Remember that childhood feeling

Like you were broken inside

At the time it wasn’t a big deal

You were young and fragile, still forming

Like a glass still in foundry, you were flexible and could be fixed

But once that glass cools, it is set

Never can it really be fixed


And like a glass, and like a shirt, and like a toy

Here I am

Broken.


How can I describe it?

Like being held together by a thread

So thin it will snap at any moment without warning

That feeling when your toy was broken

But eternal with no end


Maybe someone will pick you up

and try to drink out of the cup

Wear you as a shirt

or play with a broken toy

But it doesn’t change the fact that it is broken


And here I am

Broken

What do I do now?

Do I get “Fixed”?

Do I become forged anew?


The thin thread snaps every now and then

What do I do when that happens?

I tie it together again

But nothing really changed, just another knot that can come undone


That thread

Thats me

My psyche

My soul

What do you do when a soul breaks?


What can fix it?

Not glue, Not stitches

You just pretend it's not broken

You ignore it

But it's still broken.


I don’t want to be broken anymore

I'm tired of it

I want to be better

But what can I do?


Inside my soul screams

It tells me to do things I will regret

It tells me I don’t care

It tells me this is fine

It tells me I enjoy the chaos of the broken

The simplicity of shattering


But I don’t think this is fun anymore

I want to go home

I want this to end

I want to be safe

I don’t want to be afraid of myself


But there is no home for the lost

There is no end for the dead

There is no safety in this world that can take anything from you

Anytime and anywhere


And now here I stand

Broken to pieces

So many knots in my soul I cannot count

Shattered

I don’t want to struggle anymore

I don’t want this


But alas


I

Am

Broken
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