Broken

To look upon a heart so broken

Is like a vase of glass spilt onto the floor,

Picking up the pieces that can be somewhat mended

While others can't be used anymore.

A piece for each friend lost

is too small to gather,

Others mend together with glue;

Even though it's not close, it's the more pieces we rather.

Perhaps invent something new

Where pieces don't have to mend?

Like a stain glass window there can be huge gaps,

With black paint in between and pictures we'll pretend.

Oh yes, a heart so broken,

Can be put back together,

But into something different;

I often wonder if it's for the better.