The beauty of a broken heart
Fell of my clumsy hands, my careless hands... Shattered on the floor lies another victim... I lie on the floor, whole, yet broken. The infinite forms of pains all over my kitchen floor. All over me... How can one ever put this mess together if it isn't through fire and starting anew? Of course I am not crying... That's water from the laughing recently washed unbroken dishes... Those that remain as silent witnesses. Witnesses of not my problem, of she should've known... Trying their best to ignore the pain of a little broken glass that cuts deep. What is that? The sun? A ray of light shines through the myriad of pieces. Life is a kaleidoscope. It's a circus of colors of pain. Strange... it didn't feel like pain having any color. The blues? I do know this color, this hue, hurts very much inside my broken glass. My broken heart. All my other colors dwell in the past that will never ever be. Life... a rainbow and a sunshine broken down in a universe of pieces.
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