Journal Of The Fallen

Broken

Broken crayons still color,
Broken strings still play,
The only difference is,
Its never in the same way,

Nothing is quite the same,
As it was when it was whole,
And it'll never be as sweet,
As before the world took its toll,

Broken things may be fixed,
But it'll still show the cracks,
From where the struggles it faced,
Left behind its silent tracks,

No matter what you do,
The traces will always be there,
The only thing you can do?
Show the broken thing you care.