Broken Bits


Although I’m often
Nothing but broken bits,
The universe glue
That is hope
Will fix me right up.
Now, it becomes more
Difficult to pick up
The pieces. Although
I hate being
Broken bits
The shattered shards
Are the pieces
Of my life.
Each mysterious and
Beautiful in its own way.
Now no glue is strong enough so I
Decided to let the kind, gentle words
Of a friend
Mend my mangled insides. With a few
Chosen words, a phone
Call, a touch of comfort
The bandages slowly begin to weave.
I hope I can withstand
the latest bombing of my mind.
Although I’m crushed
I know I will have your hand
To help me pick
Myself up.
It is never easy to lose a friend.
It becomes a collage of guilt, self-loathing, and regret.
So although I may be all bandaged up,
I am a secretly sad face that laughs to
Hide the other side
The side where the downfall
Of the main character
Is clinging, expecting too much.
Is it too much to ask for a second chance?


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