I guess when we break; we can never go back to being whole

Like a vase that is thrashed against the floor, a part of us does crumble

A part of us chips, a part of us lies shattered somewhere

And unlike things one can fix, there isn’t any glue that can join us back

But I guess, when we break, it is through this brokenness that light enters

A part of us that nobody saw before is revealed

A part of us hidden all these years in the dark inside of the vase, a part of us unseen

And unlike the perfection that we dream of and aspire, it is our brokenness that makes us

I guess, it is the brokenness that makes us who we really are

More than the polish, louder speak those scars!