#brokenhomes
We all come from broken homes.
In our own way we are each
shattered pieces.
Remember though,
mosaics are made
from broken pieces
and they are still works of art.
The key, I think,
is to find the artist
who can help you
fit your fragments together
into the masterpiece
you are meant to be.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
The dark hours she spent,
Staring at the family photograph,
Smiling at the familiar faces,
Craving for the good old laughs.
“I’m there in the middle”,
Whispered a marred heart,
Those faces were so captivating,
The picture was a fine art.
Her lonely gaze deepened,
As the reality emerged strong,
The child in her was fooled,
But she couldn’t hold long.
Her mother’s love had scarred her,
The tender touch was savage,
Her father was a REAL man,
but his daughter was born damaged.
Her body was a masterpiece,
Engraved with words of gold,
But those carved by her family,
Ran deeper through her soul.
Finally, one blessed night,
She fell numb under the moonlight,
Carelessly dreaming of love,
Leaving the collapsed body behind.
Just then, a thought pierced my mind,
Will they ever try to find?
The child from the photograph,
Who went missing one night?
Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 6:49 AM UTC
My wife left me
With three little kids
Two are toddlers
And one breastfeeds
They sit on the settee
Gazing wonderingly at me
I wonder what they are thinking
What kind of man do they see?
I am a good man
I loved my wife dearly
I tried, I did all I could
Anyone would see that clearly
But I can't stay at home
I must go out to work
And after I'm done
I might take a lady to rock
Because I loved my wife
I lie for her sake
I meet my manly needs
It's a little liberty to take
The society should understand
No one must blame me
That's why I am a man
I must be what I'm made to be
But my wife left me
With three little kids
And since I'm such a man
How do I provide their needs?
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC