• I press my fingers against the broken pieces of glass,
    How it's so cold and sharp to the touch.
    As I run my fingers along the sides and edges
    I feel a p***k and drop it instantaneously.
    Noticing that such a beautiful piece;
    So interesting and perfected,
    Can be so fragile and vulnerable.
    As I observe the crushed pieces
    My reflection shows and I realize what I see.
    It's a mirror of my life, broken and shattered.
    This piece of glass is a piece of my heart,
    Broken and lost with all the others.
    Attempting to put it back as a completed whole,
    Would only reveal all the scars and empty spaces;
    Those that are impossible to find
    And put back into place, reintegrated.
    Then I look at the flawless window,
    It reveals to me what's truly there
    What I thought was really there was only an illusion
    As I look deep into the window I see
    There is a hole in the middle of my chest
    Where my heart once was.