Broken things
Are broken.
Yes, you may cradle them
Cry over them, try
To mend them, sew them, patch them,
Use feviquick glue on them, break
Unbreak your heart , say
That time will heal them.
But broken things
Are broken.
Yes, they can be mended
Broken things perhaps
Can even be made whole again
But even broken things made whole
Can never me made the same again.
Sorrow runs deep through cracks and crevices
Refuses to go away again
Do not try, do not desire
For broken things exude flyawayspirits
Which visit you, haunt you, talk to you
But can never be brought home again.
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