I feel like a broken piece of glass.
Glass that once belonged to a beautiful ornament
Stained colors along the walls of holy grounds-
I used to belong.
I used to belong to something beautiful.
Something worthwhile.
A story.
A vivid display of dreams, histories, and happy endings.
Promises and love.
Now I feel like my colors have long faded
For I'm no longer part of that very same story.
I've shaken loose from the most beautiful parts.
I thought it wouldn't be the same without me.
But from down here, everything is still picture perfect.
The world didn't break, just because I did.
I feel like a broken piece of glass.
Something stepped on only to be shattered more
Something disregarded
Something people pity as they sigh, "what a shame"
I feel like a broken piece of glass.
Swept together with everything else no longer wanted
Thrown away because I'm no longer of use.
Not perfect?
Not needed.
I feel like a broken piece of glass.
Hazardous tape wrapped around me
Because suddenly I'm too dangerous to approach.
Everyone is afraid of the pain I can cause them.
I feel like a broken piece of glass.
Razor-sharp edges keeping everyone away from me.
I am the worst weapon.
I am my worst enemy.
I am alone.
I feel like a broken piece of glass.
I am a morsel of what once was.
A segment, a shred.
Insignificant.
But I am not a piece of broken glass.
I am nothing but a broken person.
