I dream of the day
I am not so broken
As to break the things I love
Into a thousand little pieces.
A realization dawns
That the man I once was
Is not dead, but sleeping
Inside this stranger I have become.
I can't go back
Retrace my steps
And fix those wounds and scars
But I can see you for the woman you are
And remember my life beneath the stars
When I was just me
And I begin to stir
Within this stranger's mind
And realize that
I am not so broken.
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Author:
Fränz Müller (
Offline) - Published: August 18th, 2025 18:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Damaso
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Comments1
We all break things from time to time but that does not mean that we are broken. Nicely written
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