Made From Broken Bottles

She’s a tough one, that girl. 

Distancing herself while flipping off the world. 

They’re a strange one, that child. 

Terribly broken, yet perfectly wild. 

He’s a sly one, that boy. 

Hiding behind a smirk so coy. 

But what do all these children have in common? 

Rewriting their lives to hide the tears that have fallen. 

Always keeping their finger on the trigger, 

To drown out the memories that linger. 

These people share nothing; 

While also sharing everything. 

Maybe they were shattered, 

Maybe all their pieces were stolen and scattered, 

Or maybe they’re united by pain of another, 

Maybe their sister, or their brother, or even their mother. 

You see, we are not so different, you and me. 

That ship has long since sunk, 

All of the cargo forgotten at sea. 

We were cut from the same cloth, 

Unable to keep our finger off the throttle. 

Or maybe, 

We just got all of our pieces from broken bottles.