Glass

Glass hearts, so fragile, so easy to break.

Broken glass.

My heart is shattered.  Shards of broken pieces stab my insides.  Moving forward hurts.  Moving backwards hurts more.

Maybe I love the feeling of pain.  Maybe I love brokenness and depression because it makes me feel something.

Maybe I love getting hurt over and over again because I deserve it.

Maybe I love giving a piece of myself to people so freely…

Broken pieces of my heart trail behind me.  A part of me I gave to someone.  Someone who didn’t want it.  A part of me is broken.  A sliver of my heart missing…

In the pain, I see in blue.  The world is bleak; more so am I.

I’m angry.  I’m furious.

I’m fragile.

I see in red.  I bleed anger, frustration, hate.

I bleed brokenness.

I bleed from the cuts of broken glass.

I bleed for my heart.

I am broken.

I am glass.

 

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