The ground around you turns to ashes and light that was is no more

The flicker of light within has been snuffed out you tremble to no end

The pain fills the cracks and once again you are whole

That would be the irony you are not whole cracks filled with pain

Is like gluing glass back together it’s never as strong as it once was

You are in pieces that have been etched to fit, but not by your hands

The person you are was made by fools, ones of merely surgical mask and tools

You have become a pack mule to bend and break to the use of others

You’ve lost your voice an identity of yours hidden with a mussel

Wondering if you were ever to be who you wanted or if you were always their toy

A toy smashed into the ground thrown high up to hit the ground, or tooken to see what’s inside you

The insides back then had flesh, bones, organs, the blood of life

Now I am porcelain, empty on the inside and an identity easily broken to never find itself