Broken Pieces

This poem is a personification of a vase holding flowers and it is telling its point of view; it is also about a human being (no one in particular, just humans in general).

Whole and new

I hold you

My story wraps around my body

But my story is incomplete

It is the shortest part of my life

But it is perfect and beautiful

At least that's what I think

But when I lose my balance

I tumble and fall to my end

I slam into a barrier

And I shatter

You fall from me

You lie lifelessly before

My broken pieces

You lie amongst

My broken pieces

You die quickly and all that is left 

is your rotting, decaying corpse

and

my broken pieces

i am so broken

so beyond repair

at least

that's what i thought

i knew i could never go back 

i knew i could never be what i once was

i could never reform into my former self

these broken pieces were now my story

but i laid there in a grave of pulverized memories

and i realized that just because something is broken,

doesn't mean it isn't valuable.

Just because something is broken,

 doesn't mean it isn't beautiful.

I am a new kind of me;

Maybe an even better me.

I may be broken, but

I am not finished.

I am not destroyed; 

I am only different.

I am experienced.

I am a new kind of beautiful.

These broken pieces of me

Are beautiful

Because they are 

My Story.

I take my broken pieces,

Filled with a hope I have always yearned for

And I piece them together to form a new me.

I clean up the mess.

I am now a mosaic.

And I am beautiful.

I am beautiful.

I am valuable.

I am new. 

This is my story. 

Author's Note

This poem also explains how we as human beings are continuously breaking and growing. It shows how our stories are continuously developing. This poem was also written in 2018.

Reviews

[Words of Wisdumb]

Nice work. Great and meaningful theme.