I always pick the broken ones, cuz I am broken too.*

I look to the ones with damaged bones,
beat down,
broke down,
weathered.
Hoping where our pieces broke that they might fit together.

When you only have two halves of hearts,
You'd assume they'd make a whole,
But lying in bed next to you,
I've never felt less of my soul.

I guess you have to try and find,
Your other half all on your own.
Because you know it started out with you,
But then you gave it out on loan.

You can't seem to remember,
Who now has it in their hands.
There were a lot of faceless broken ones,
And they all look the same in the stands.

But you learn how to make a house a home,
Even when you aren't there.
To surround yourself with greatness,
And only those who care.

It's harder than it seems to sound,
But you'll get there,
You'll find a way.
And you'll wish the best for the broken ones,
Because you were just them yesterday.