Poetry

Broken

I am broken. And it doesn't matter what you say because it's true. I'm the broken toy at the bottom of the box that everyone avoids but is scared to dispose of. I am the plate that sits in the cupboard with a crack down the middle that's kept 'just in case'. I am the weed at the back of the garden that no matter what you spray on it, it never leaves. I am the junk on the side of the road that even the bin men don't want to take. But you know what ? That's okay because to someone I'm needed, it's better to sit and wait then to be replaced.

I am everything wrong with the world, I am war and destruction. I am global warming. I am murder. I am death. I'm the rain coming down on the day you don't have a jacket. I'm the fire that burns down your house. I'm the animal that runs across a dark road and makes you crash your car. But that's okay, because without chaos the world wouldnt function. The world would be nothing. Because in some sense I'm needed.

Im the voice inside your head telling you that you're not enough. I break you because I myself am broken and I cannot bare to be the only broken China in the shop. So when I beat you down until you feel like the dirt right under my shoe know that it's for the best because I cannot bare to be alone in this broken world.