I Was
I always feel a need to help pick up the broken pieces.
No matter how much the glass rips my tired hands to shreds.
I grew up between all things broken,
Broken glass, broken TV screens,
broken homes, and broken dreams,
Broken memories, broken brain,
Broken relationships and broken scenes,
I grew up between a father with a fist of Iron and a mother who didn’t take her pills when she saw the monsters at the door.
I found friendship and companionship in the downtrodden, the broken and uncut,
The “uncivilized”,
The “polarized”
The runts.
I found myself falling too far and too close to the same tree,
The tree I hung from once I felt that I was free,
Under a medicine cabinet,
Chewing on the same pills I spit out after realizing I didn’t put myself in a casket,
I grew up broken and dirty,
My kid hands covered in the blood of the adult I was meant to be.
But the man I became rose from the ashes of what never was,
The kintsugi core connection that I met when confounding the confrontations it would take to make me free.
I fell in love under a drone show in concrete streets,
Though I wouldn’t know why until I was a few months wiser and a few steps more free.
I found the gold to fix my porcelain,
The color to fill my life back with by filling out the numbers,
I found completion,
Because despite what might be broken about us both,
Our shattered glass and tattered cloth fit perfectly in this puzzle piece together.
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