Broken things

a poem about beautiful broken people

Broken things.


I always thought
that I always had
a throw away mentality.

If a top was ripped
bin it,
if a plate way broken
chuck it,
whether chipped or stained or dinted just
get rid of it.

But recently I've noticed,
that thought I've never been fond
of broken things,
I've always been drawn
like a moth to a flame
to broken people.

I surround myself with people who are classed as
damaged goods.

A parent that's been lied to,
a friend somebody broke,
a lover who's so cracked inside
they cant see past the faults.

But I've always seen the beauty
in people who've been tested
because it takes the strongest heart
to be smashed
into a million pieces
and pick themselves back up
and fill themselves with gold
until bit by bit
fraction by fraction
tear by tear

they become an object that,
though always shows the evidence
of another's careless destruction,
they also wear the proof
of how they triumphed.