To Feel Broken

I guess it’s alright

to feel broken inside;

to feel the Sun in your world

deny itself light.


But it’s terrifying, raw,

to allow your heart reign,

or to let it decide where is bliss,

when there’s pain.


It always comes back to

the troubles you hide,

the bubbling cauldron

of your melting pride,


or heartache, or pity,

I mean, take your pick.

It’s one or the other,

it just makes me sick

to see in some ways,

it'll always be the same.

Sometimes, it feels purely

like internal shame.


Maybe I’ve changed.

Possibly grown,

to stand, even when

I’m standing alone.


But even if sometimes

I doubt I’ll survive,

to feel broken, and torn

is what makes us alive.