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So this is a poem that Christine sent me, and I kinda liked. It's pretty, a little mean, and kinda funny.
Shattered glass
I’m broken like shattered glass,
Tiny pieces, different shapes, edges sharp.
Carefully, you pick me up,
Once whole, but no longer,
What’s done is done.
Things could have been different,
I could be shiny and whole.
But instead I’m scattered on the floor.
The first crack came when you slammed the door.
You didn’t even see it.
You wonder why I’m like this,
But you don’t stop to think.
Your back was turned
You wouldn’t listen.
The things you said,
They still linger.
Kind of like the blood,
Trickling from your finger.
So, you want to fix me,
Put me back together.
Pick each piece up gently,
Like a feather.
There’s no turning back,
What’s done is done.
All the pieces can‘t be found,
Parts of me are still on the ground.
What is left cannot be glued,
If by chance it could,
Would you even notice,
The pieces that are missing,
Or the dried glue caking.
I’m broken like shattered glass
If you want to help,
Leave me alone,
But before you go,
Kiss my ass. -- Christine Velazquez.
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