I see the pieces, they lie on the floor, shattered and broken, tattered and torn. 

I’d put it all back together if I only knew how. So many pieces lost, so many pieces found.

He ripped off a piece and so did she, you did and also me. 

We’ve all had a go at destroying my soul, I’ve lost pieces I never even got to know. 

A brief memory stirs and it rips a bit more, another trauma, another piece on the floor. 

Sometimes I think I should just stop trying, stop giving in, stop crying.

How many times can I try to repair the broken soul of a child neglected of care?

Mother’s love, Father’s protection… Non existent in every direction. 

Now she’s an adult, broken and torn, wishing to God some days that she’d never been born.

Life is a tricky little token, and some people are doomed to be broken. 


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