Glass

What do we do, when the ones we care about are broken?

Do we punish the ones who have hurt them? Make them pay for their crimes. Show them what broken really looks like.

Do we try to fix them or do we leave them shattered like broken glass. Millions of a whole sparkling in the dirt.

It is hard to love a broken thing. When things break we replace them…it’s easier than taking the time to mend them. Easier to forget about what is broken. Who is broken. No one wants to be reminded of the things that are broken…the people they have broken.

I saw her broken. She laid there, like glass. Silent…though silence was never something she longed for. I couldn’t touch her. She was sharp. Her shards laid at my feet. I didn’t break her, but I cannot fix her. I don’t know how. I want to. I want what once was. This bond between us, shatter by those who hurt her. Beat her down into the dirt. Shoved their words into her like daggers. Tore apart what was left of her. Somehow she rose. A million pieces. She rose up, still shattered and she glistened in the sun. I couldn’t fix her. I don’t know if she even wanted to be fixed. Perhaps she likes being broken? Perhaps the glass makes her enemies tremble with fear. She is strong, even though she is shattered. Her strength is the greatest sword ever built.


For my dearest and oldest friend.

Stay strong.

–R.

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