My poetry fractured, like shattered glass,
Each piece a reflection of a different past,
A kaleidoscope of memories and dreams,
A mosaic of emotions and silent screams.
I am not whole, and nor is my verse,
A broken mirror with a thousand hurts,
Reflecting back the shards of my soul,
A shattered image that will never be whole.
But in each fragment, there lies a truth,
A piece of me that I cannot refute,
And though my poetry may be incomplete,
It is a portrait of who I am, bittersweet.
So let me embrace my fractured art,
And wear my scars like a work of art,
For in each broken piece, there lies a story,
A journey of pain, but also of glory.::