I remember when the world broke in,
To rip apart my soul,
For years after that one event,
I thought myself not whole.
My hours were spent with trying,
To fix it up with tape and glue,
Until one day I discovered
Everyone else was broken too.
Here we are with pieces,
Of ourselves in our hands,
So fragile and so open,
That I began to understand.
Maybe I’d been greedy,
To want my soul all to myself.
When it could be a lot more helpful,
In the palms of someone else.
Now every time I go somewhere,
I leave part of me behind,
And collect all of the pieces,
Of others’ souls that I can find.
So when I’m meeting someone new,
It’s not just me they get,
But also tiny fragments,
Of all the others that I’ve met,
And my life’s become much bigger,
Now that it’s home to things so small,
And if this is what “broken” means,
I do not mind at all.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s