i am shattered, pieces strewn,
a mirror cracked by hands unseen,
reflections scattered on the floor,
a life that once was whole,
now torn apart by silent screams.
sometimes theres beauty in broken things,
or so they say to ease the pain,
but all i see are jagged edges,
cutting deeper with each refrain.
the light that once lived in my eyes,
flickers like a dying flame,
a ghost of what i used to be,
lost within a shattered frame.
each fragment holds a memory,
a glimpse of who i used to know,
but they slip through my fingers,
as i reach out to hold them close.
the world around me moves so fast,
but i remain still, a broken shell,
cradling the weight of a thousand wounds,
in a heart that knows too well.
the pieces cut, they tear apart,
leaving scars that never fade,
reminders of the battles lost,
in a war i never chose to wage.
and though they say there's beauty here,
in the cracks, in the fractured light,
i feel only the aching void,
where hope has long since taken flight.
for broken things make the sharpest weapons,
and i am nothing if not sharp
a blade forged in the fire of pain,
ready to carve my way through the dark.
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrytrigger warning. dont expect you to read this, words are simply that. just words. but if you do i hope you enjoy 👍 and if you relate to any of these, im so sorry. (all of these are original and written by me unless its said otherwise) might also in...
