Once Broken

Sparking gem,

Dainty ornament of finest detail,

Glowing from inside,

Sparkling blue like the ocean.

Tinkling bell giving butterflies to those who heard.

Inside, a heart full of happiness,

And a soul pure and innocent.

If you held that ornament

And really looked at it

You would see

Just how fragile it was.

See what was beyond the surface,

Observe the depth of its possibilities on the inside.

But it was held by someone

Who did not appreciate its inner blessings,

Focussing only on the perfection on the outside.

So when he realized there were complexities within,

That it was more than an impeccable jewel to dazzle his eyes.

The ornament was carelessly tossed aside.

And it shattered into a million tiny pieces.

What was inside lay there bare and raw,

Unable to do anything.

Exposed, vulnerable, and alone.

So, with nothing left,

She scooped up the shards

and started to re-build.

She smoothed and re-formed the exterior.

Day after day,

Patting and patching.

Until once again the ornament looked whole.

From the outside.

But the inside

Was still broken.

With its jagged pieces,

Rough edges,

And tiny shards

To remind her,

Whisper to her,

Taunt her,

Leave her unsettled.

So that now,

Even though she looks

The same on the outside,

On the inside,

She doubts.

She feels the pain.

The damage and the loss.

She lacks confidence,

Is haunted by a cruel ghost,

Telling her there is something wrong with her.

On the inside she is still broken.

Every move she makes,

She is reminded.

Memories open old cuts.

Scars attempting to heal are still painful.

She is ashamed.

She wants to hide.

She wants to forget.

She wants to give up.

The glow that gem used to have

Is dull.

Like the colour of rainy day.

And the bell no longer rings as freely,

Its sound now a sorrowful song.

And the ornament is so much more likely to break again,

For inside she is barely holding it together.

Published by kovasoturi

I am a thinker. I am a watcher. I am a believer in being kind. As I have grown older I have better realized the importance of taking the time to see beyond my own feelings and point of view. I am emotional. I am also introverted. Which means it often looks like I don't care, but on the inside I am being ripped apart. Writing helps me share what I am feeling on the inside.

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