Sometimes when we shatter, our broken pieces scar others.

we're all letting ourselves get so wounded so deeply by so many people

You'd think two broken ppl... meeting in the middle of the night... that they would fix each other.
But maybe ones more whole than the other, and the broken one drags him down with her, showing him how broken she is, breaking him, until they lay on the ground, both broken.
And as she lays there on the floor, realizing what's she's done, she'll burn to ashes in fiery tears.
The wind will blow away the ashes, leaving just the broken boy. And someone will come along, someone whole... and pick those broken pieces of the boy up, and fix him.
But ashes never leave. They mark the broken pieces with its dark color...