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Literature Text
I'm like broken glass.
You can see me and all I am, but not clearly. The pieces are too shattered to fix and you know that you can't replace anything because I wouldn't be me anymore even if me is unstable.
It's not like I want to be broken, but I don't want anyone else to attempt to glue these fragments of glass on the floor because I'm so terrified of the hands that grab at me. "You'll be okay." They say. But we both know that's not true.
Broken is easily fixed, if only by the right hands.
You can see me and all I am, but not clearly. The pieces are too shattered to fix and you know that you can't replace anything because I wouldn't be me anymore even if me is unstable.
It's not like I want to be broken, but I don't want anyone else to attempt to glue these fragments of glass on the floor because I'm so terrified of the hands that grab at me. "You'll be okay." They say. But we both know that's not true.
Broken is easily fixed, if only by the right hands.
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I was listening to Silverstein - last days of summer when I thought of this.
© 2010 - 2024 twindleourfingers
Comments2
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So true. So true. 