Cracked and broken,
Pieces scattered,
From a dream awoken,
To being shattered,
Broken from what I lack,
I can feel every crack.

Each piece has a story,
Of life, in of itself,
Some times of glory,
Others of poor health,
All these memories on my back,
It's no wonder I crack.

So instead I pull together,
And fill in what's missing,
With gold and put pressure,
Until all the cracks glisten,
Now I stand up, broken,
But within gold is woven.