Broken

I’m broken.
People come,
Stick me back,
I help with the glue.
But the glue has no strength.
A tiny wisp of wind
Is all it takes.
It brushes past
And all of me breaks.
I’m tired of breaking.
I wish I was a fortress
Lasting millennia.
Or a wall
That keeps people in place.
Or sand that knows
No great weather.
But I’m not.
I depend.
Ironic.
It breaks me.
The pieces get difficult
To find.
It hurts to break.
But
Even when broken
No one
Casts me away.
No one
Wants me gone.
Maybe they like
The challenge
Of putting me back
Together.
Maybe they like
Seeing me
… broken.
Maybe I’m words
Meant to be
Spoken
Into
Breeze.
Maybe they wish
To see how much
I can take.
How far I last
How small I can break.
But, you see,
No matter how much
I am glued back,
I am broken.
Swaying in the breeze,
Counting on words
Not yet spoken.

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