tasked
their pieces on the ground
scattered
all over the carpet
i marvel at their broken facade
it speaks to me
tasked
i pick their pieces
my frail fingers hold them gently
i hold them against the sun
beautiful
the only word to describe them
tasked
i try to glue them with my tears
i hold them against their broken face
against their broken heart
and i wither when they won't stay
tasked
i always do this
i fix the broken
i hold their pieces
i ignore the pain
but i won't look in the mirror
there lies my truth
my image reflects their's
my broken pieces lay on the carpet
i try to match them to Their cracks
and i end up more broken than i was
tasked
will someone ever do the same for me?