Like the shape of that wing. Need my wings touched up on my back and feathers done. It is an option.:

I came to you broken. A million jagged pieces, asking you to give me back what I was.

Raging against the storm. The rain stinging my face I demand this

Give me back my self! I need to know myself! I need to see myself!

I beg, I plead, I cajole, but there is only the wind and the rain,the wildness of the storm

It is the same storm that lives inside of my soul. It is the same storm that has ripped out my heart and left me in this broken, empty state

I am angry, beyond angry.I don’t want to be here anymore, I don’t want to do this although I am not even sure what this is

By dawn,I have  exhausted my fury. The sky is clearing and I am left in a heap on the wet grass Spent, empty, cleansed

As I open my eyes I see one tiny shard. Sparkling on the ground. Written on it is the word Peace

I pick it up and smile.Nothing is what I thought.Nothing is in my control. I can only collect the tiny pieces of my soul one at a time and put myself back together.

13 thoughts on “Broken

  1. Frank says:

    Hi! I could have sworn I’ve been to this blog before but after looking at some of the posts I realized it’s new to me.
    Regardless, I’m certainly happy I stumbled upon it and
    I’ll be book-marking it and checking back regularly!


  2. itsworthediting says:

    Wow, it was like you were reading my own mind, while I was reading this piece. I, too, have had to pick up a piece at a time of a fragmented life until I gained God’s peace once more. Thanks. You helped me.


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