Broken glass.
It was mine.
My place.
The only place I felt a little bit safe.
But it’s broken now.
There’s laying glass all over the ground.
In pieces,
My safety in pieces,
Broken,
Taken down.
My protection.
But it’s broken,
It will never heal again.
Broken in pieces of glass.
All that I had is broken.
I try and try to fix it,
Try to build up my shell of glass.
But everytime I have a little part,
It’s taken down again.
Building up the only thing I had isn’t the option,
Because it only works reversed.
I need a thing that works in one direction,
Which give me the feeling I’m safe again.
That nobody will ever hurt me again.
That no one will ever betray me again.
That I can live my life how I want it,
How it’s meant to be.
I need the thing that brings me to the place I wanted to be,
Where I can live in peace.
The place where everybody lives their second lifes.
I need the thing that brings me to that place.
The place that called Heaven.
I wrote this poem today (30-01-2013) at 11.45 am Dutch time (GMT +1). I wrote it because I really felt like my only thing, the only place I felt quite safe, was broken… My safe place, my shell. So that’s why I wrote this poem. I know my English grammar isn’t always good, but forgive me, I’m Dutch. If you have any comments on the grammar, feel free to reply. Any other comments are ofcourse also welcome.
2 comments
good stuff, i write poetry and i completely understand. feel free to check some of my work out
mooi verhaal, beetje droevig, maar alsnog mooi. en maak je geen zorgen om je engels, want dat is ook in orde.
sometimes we need to build things up, just to experience the process of building. when the glass breaks into a dozen pieces, its a pity. you WILL lose something.. a part. but the part of the process is still there. youve experienced it. even if others dont believe, you know its true and thats the part that never breaks.