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 |