poetry and anarchy go hand in hand

28%

over the course of a second, a million hearts can shatter. over the course of years, they'll try to mend. broken hearts find broken hearts. the broken pieces kaleidoscope in the sun against the soft grass. the edges aren't as sharp as they used to be, but the few holes that others have taken the pieces to whistle sadly with the wind. Broken pieces can't be beautiful. Yet, I look at mosaics and stained glass windows and suddenly my heart finds a purpose amongst the art. I find myself screaming "why can't that be me?" But I'm not complete. Not yet.

{s.e.}