I was looking at this piece of broken glass and I started laughing
Because me and that piece of glass have a lot in common.
I used to be
S H I N Y
Now I'm
d u l l.
I used to be apart of something
Now I'm just pieces.
I used to make up maybe
A window  A door  Art  Stained glass.
Now instead I'm just broken pieces.
People used to be able to look through me and enjoy the view on the other side.
Now people only see the dust and lies and filth and brokenness of me.
I'm trying to piece
m y s e l f    back together.
But I know that it's too late.