In the silence,
I find every broken piece of myself
Their sharp edges cut me until I bleed
Forcing me to drop them to the floor-
The pain too much to bear.
Perhaps it is not worth it
To repair the shattered remains of my past.
The pieces on the floor
Taunt me to try again.
The silence here is deafening,
And still I do not whisper for aid.
Mar 21, 2024
Mar 21, 2024 at 9:42 PM UTC
In the silence,
I find every broken piece of myself
Their sharp edges cut me until I bleed
Forcing me to drop them to the floor-
The pain too much to bear.
Perhaps it is not worth it
To repair the shattered remains of my past.
The pieces on the floor
Taunt me to try again.
The silence here is deafening,
And still I do not whisper for aid.
Request permission to use this poem