We're all a little broken,
-still fragile in the jagged cracks we've puttied back together;
but no one taught us how to use these tools,
So the patchwork could be better
Looks like the glue that's meant to heal,
Was sloppy, probably finger-painted on,
And little bits of foreign objects,
Fill the parts of us now gone.
The tape is barely holding,
We've been battered, bruised, and blistered.
Got all these tools to numb the pain, but no one knows the fixer.
YOU ARE READING
Poems To Burn
PoetryPoems To Burn is an ode to the two line poems gathering dust in nightstand drawers; to the scattered stanzas and verses on crumpled paper. You can purchase your full copy on Amazon.
