I’m broken
When them words leave my mouth I cry
To realise the fragile truth
Even when acting strong and wearing my mask
It is useless to hide it
Damaged interior
A vase that has been shattered into a thousand pieces and glued back together
The risk of breaking once more
Forever losing pieces
There is only so much glue
Sometimes the pieces won’t glue back
That once loved vase suddenly isn’t worth keeping anymore
So it gets replaced
Why keep a broken vase?
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