By: Roman Loera
You have been told since birth
That broken glass hurts
And those are true words
Though would it not be much worse
To become rather than observe
Imagine being a shattered shard
Raised to be sharp
Raised to be hard
Compared to as a tool to break hearts
No soul realized, we are the ones broken apart
Tread on by society without guilt
No thought for us to be rebuilt
Though they panic when the flower wilts
They cry over spilt milk
We might continue to break, but never will be killed
We find refuge if not peace
We learn to believe
That we are motifs
We find love, our match like a puzzle piece
Until, one day, we are again complete