I am broken, but not
quite broken enough, perhaps not
fully, but the
cracks are there and
nothing
quite fills them; their
constant, insisting numbness
is like a cruel reminder
that
I am broken, but not
quite broken enough, perhaps not
fully but the
cracks are there and
I am not broken enough to
need fixed, yet I am
not whole enough to
be content.
Not yet destroyed, but parts
of me
are lost, never to be found,
I am broken, but not
quite broken enough, perhaps not
fully, but the
cracks are there.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
