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Pieces

What would broken look like … would a person even know … or still think themselves sane … even as coherence became nothing more than a fond memory …

Might I be breakable … past encounters have done such a masterful job of splitting me up … so little left to do really …

I’ve walked around … all in pieces … as long as I can remember … something held it all together … like some crazy reformed glass figurine … not quite reassembled right …

She was a good girl … a bright girl … full of sunshine … for her the world was spectacular and wonderful … adventures everywhere …

But all should know as well as I … that to rely on the kindness of strangers rarely ends well …

I never could learn …

I still want to see that sunshine … the little girl come out to play … all grown up this time …

Just not always so sure if the glue can hold … if the glass shall catch his light again … and persist in casting rainbows … or if its fate shall be … what it always was …

Pieces on the floor …

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