Broken

 

There are those days

When something seems to snap within –

And we lie broken within ourselves

(Though the world will seem not to notice)

 

Like a broken toy, with a missing part

Or a winter’s poet, with a broken heart

Something feels amiss

And that wistfulness brings forth empty winds

 

But we are grown-ups after all –

Who do we go to cry?

Nor can we unmask ourselves

Lest the world call us weak, spineless

 

And so we keep walking,

Pretending to not notice ourselves

Hoping the world too is deceived

As we hobble, trundle, but never stop

 

Until one day, we look at callused feet

And scabs and slits and snaps and scar -

And yet marvel, that despite it all

A broken toy could come this far…

27th May. 2026