Poetry of Unspoken Words

BOULEVARD OF THE BROKEN ONES

My mother always warned me about the darker side of this world
The demons that live in the darkness waiting for their next victims to feed on, psychotic bastards that made sadism and cruelty their usual everyday game, green eyed monsters that take so much more than they need and the silent ones that have made knives and guns and weapons their toys.

They are the broken ones.

The kings and queens of darkness. The people children are warned about. The monsters under your bed. The flash of shadows that caught your eyes for a split second. The demons that you thought lived within you. The pain that has haunted you every single day of your life.

They are called the broken ones.

The ones that are too busy on the run to stop and look at the stars. The ones that never marveled the beauty of sunrise, the ones that slept behind bars, with chains, with poisoning waters and filthy air and everything else that has ever been forbidden. The ones society deemed to be worthless, to be outcasts, to be never spoken of.

But maybe my mother did not understand. Maybe society didn't understand. No one ever did.

But I do.

Because every broken one had a story, a purpose in life that they once strived to fulfill. They once had dreams that they chased and a love that opened their eyes to the beauty of everything.
They were once talked about, was once the champion of a competition, the author of a best selling book, the princess in every childhood fairytale, the officer that has been the country's knight and shining armor. The doctor that has saved thousands of lives.

Before they chose to take the lives they saved. Before they chose to listen to the demons within them, before they were forgotten. Before they were broken.

They are the broken ones. They seek to repair themselves at the expense of others, they seek to be fixed, they seek to escape the darkness that was eating them whole, they seek to avenge every single thing that has made them broken.

They are the broken ones.

And pehaps, the most broken of them all

Is me.

Maybe I was the very thing my mother warned me about, maybe I was the darkness that was swallowing them whole, maybe I was the satan that commanded all their demons to come out, maybe I was the thunder in the skies that they chose never to look at again. Maybe I was all of them. The most crooked, the ugliest, the most evil of them all.

We are the broken ones. And we seek repair for our broken souls.

Are you broken too?

-LMTF