Broken words.
But we try.
Broken glass.
But we hope.
Broken songs.
But we sing.
Broken  lass.
But she loves.
Broken words.
But we speak.
Broken bad.
But we care.
Broken songs.
But we sing.
Broken lad.
But he loves.
Broken you.
But you fight.
Broken me.
But I try.
Broken home.
But we sigh.
Broken we.
But we struggle.
Broken strangers.
But we welcome.
Broken world.
But we stand.
Broken light.
But we shine.

We are the generation birthed into broken homes.
Backless. Spineless structures.
Faceless fathers.
And miracle mothers.

Brown boys teaching brown boys how to be men.
Brown boys teaching brown girls how to be loved.
Loving her like his “main *****”
like his “side chick”
like his lies. Like his lust. Like his leisure.
Like a good ****.
And she lets him.
She has never seen an example of love.
So he loves her. Broken.
And they reproduce.
Broken.
Another brown baby birthed into a broken home.
With a faceless father and a miracle mother.

Women raising boys into boys.
Not men but boys.
Women raising girls into bitter
Girls into ‘*******’
Girls into bisexual
because there’s no man present.

We are the generation birthed into broken homes.
Inheriting broken hopes.
Boys inheriting the name of a man he’s never known.
Inheriting personality traits from a man we’ll never know.

We’ll never know white picket fence,
We’ll never know 20 year anniversary
We’ll never know happy home
We’ll never know American dream.

We are the forgotten ones.
We are the generation birthed into broken homes.
With hand-me-down hopes.
And Mama’s Spit-shined smiles.

They classified us as the broken ones.
I am from a broken home.
But I am not a broken one.
I pick up my pieces, wrote some poems and made peace with it.

What’s broken can be fixed.
Brother. Be a man.
Sister. Be a woman.
Be royal. Be raw. Be real. Be you. Be king. Be queen. Be father. Be mother. Be love. Be trust. Be home. Be hope.
Be there.
Be there.

We are not broken.
We are the generation birthed into broken homes.
We are rebuilding.
Either lend us a hand or leave us alone.

Broken Boy, Broken Boy, Please do not cry!
Your eyes is filled with terrified tears.
Can you see your father is nearby?
His eyes burns with the fury of Ares-
Causes your spirit to whimper in fear.
Like fragile porcelain dolls been shattered,
He brutally beats your bruised body-
Leaves your spirit broken and battered

Broken Boy, Broken Boy, Please do not cry!
Oh be a sweet darling good boy and listen!
Can you hear the sound of your father’s fist crunch?
Drowning in deluge of emotional distress,
Your eyes has lost its innocent glisten.
With each punch,
Your aura of gentleness gradually dies.
Your heart cold like gargoyles in fortress

Broken Boy, Broken Boy, Please do not cry!
The Broken Boy has now become a Man.
His haughty handsome face sneers with disdain.
His soul now barren as the desert of Afghan.
His subconscious mind haunted by past pain.
Lost in the wilderness of his own wrath,
His breath is drunk with the taste of violence,
Has he grown up to be a psychopath?

Broken Boy, Broken Boy, Please do not cry!
You have become a man of vendetta!
Following the footsteps of your father-
Belt your boy till his skin turns magenta-
His affection for you begins to languish.
This abuse is a never-ending cancer.
Like you, your son shall wear a mask of anger
To camouflage his heart’s suppressed anguish.

Broken Boy giving birth to another Broken Boy
Will the curse of Broken Boy ever end?

Poem – By Obar Mark

I'M BROKEN TO BE MORE

It’s no doubt that to feel pain is mandatory;
But to feel the suffering is not only an option but also a choice;
In heartbreak, suffering and pain, remember that being broken is humility;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.

It takes a broken soil to give a crop a life;
Don’t worry nor remain in despair while going through breakings;
Instead of crying for a lighter load, just ask for a stronger back to carry the load;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.  

It takes humility to accept that your heart has been broken;
It takes ignorance to allow any man or woman to break your precious heart;
Just as it takes broken cloud to give rain and bring a new hope to huge masses;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.

In deed, broken grains give bread;
Broken bread give strength;
Likewise, God uses broken people to make great things;
So, I choose to be broken in humility.

Life seemed good
Sitting on the beach
Watching the Sun
Commit suicide
By plummeting deep
Into the waves
Tempting Night
To replace its beauty

I remain on the beach
Look at my watch
It's now 10:30
My mom probably read my note
I haven't heard the sirens
So she must not care
I mean hell
When does my broken family ever care

When they are too busy at work
When they yell at me
For not washing a **** spoon
Or take the credit for my accomplishments
When do I get to be happy
When do I get to stop cutting
Or contemplating what I plan on doing tonight
At this peaceful, calm beach

I'm broken
My reflection in the mirror
Can see all my cracks
And missing pieces
So why can't the rest of the world
Is it the mask I'm tired of wearing
Or the role I play as some happy kid

**** I wish there was somebody
Somebody with me
On this peaceful, calm beach
To glue the pieces missing for so long
Back into place
Hold my hand and tell me
That they ******* care
But it wont happen because I came alone

Brought with me a 45
Two bullets just in case
4 bottles of whiskey
And a knife to help speed things up
Because here on this beach
So dark, peaceful, calm, and lonely
I plan to end it
With happiness obtained with my last breath

See when you come from
A ******* broken home
You don't care for life
You don't care fro anything
And everything is a permanent problem
Even you living under there house
And eating so little or too much
Because their the reason for all the depression

You try your best
To please everyone around you
Hoping your happiness
Will make it easier for you
But instead you give them a reason
Just to push you around even more
So you take that little blade
And slide it across your wrist

You bleed your pain out
Your tired of the cruel words
The even crueler people
Who don't give two ***** about you
So do what I'm doing tonight
Go to the most beautiful place
You have ever been
And take your life away

I know I corrupt everything with my darkness
I corrupt the beauty within life
I'm broken
I break everything I touch
So tonight here on this beach
I take my last breath
And slowly begin
To make this place my grave

Broken, Broken, Broken
Everything around me so badly broken
The still water
Can't even capture my reflection
Because parts of me
Drop endlessly into it
From the places I tried
To patch and keep in place

So **** this life
**** the next one
I just wanted to be happy
So as I finish off the third bottle
I'll tear into my wrist
With the freshly sharpened blade
Load the 45 preparing for the end
Because it's only 11:12

By the end of the night
My wrist will stop bleeding
My blood will mix
With the salty sand and water
Making me one with this beach
Because I don't care for life
Here on this land
The Sea has always been my home

See a broken feeling
Not only comes from a broken home
It comes from
The many woman
You offer your heart too
Hoping it's an elegant enough gift
So you can at least
Be given a chance

But as the numbers rack up
The cracks get deeper
And start connecting
Pieces start falling
And that heart
You once had
Becomes almost nothing
Then nothing at all

See I'm even more broken
Because of her
She said she loved me
She got my hopes up
I thought she was perfect
And maybe that's where it went wrong
I put her on a pedal-stool
But I tried to just make her happy

I didn't need big words
Like a dictionary
Or deep lines
Like an old woman's wrinkles
To tell her or show her
That I ******* loved her
That I was loyal to her
But she broke a broken man even further

Maybe I wasn't enough
Maybe I'll never be enough
So **** it
I'm 5 o'clock drunk at 11:51
It's almost time for me to go
So I'll write another suicide note
Further up the shore
So the tide doesn't wash it away

So how should I write this
Like a regular note
Or make it like a business letter
I guess it doesn't matter
I'm leaving this place
Because I'm tired of being used
And tired of being broken
I already know you're not going to miss me

So maybe one last swig
One more cut
Just to bleed a little faster
It's 11:59 at night
Almost 12 like I wanted
The moon is high
And so is the tide
So I guess it's time to say goodbye

I took too much time
Wasted enough of it
All for what
A bullet to the brain
Yeah I guess I have
******* world
Hope you read and remember my poetry
Learn the kind of guy I wa.....

I found a lamp, a broken lamp,
keeps shining despite broken.
A magic lamp from a magic land,
Genie's home, o, sweet home.
Three wishes won't ever do,
three wishes crawling from
you;
Seems broken, o, yeah, it's
a broken lamp, a broken lamp from a broken land,
keeps shining despite broken.

Say your three wishes already,
says Genie.
I am writing a poetry, I whisper quietly.
What do you wish it would be? asks Genie, gently.
Ssshhh, you are bothering me, Genie.
Genie was bothering me
so I leave, I leave like the autumn leaves
drift by the window.
I leave like a sunset on a rainy day ---

Never say goodbye
to a broken lamp, a broken lamp from a broken land,
keeps shining despite broken.