#19

Behind us all is a trail
Breadcrumbs of a sort
You see
Life in all its brutality
Chips pieces of us away
And even if we could gather them all up
Cradle them in our arms
Those lost pieces of ourselves
We can’t make them fit again
Some pieces
Once sheared away
Will never fit again
Will never call us home
And we can choose
To call ourselves broken
Or changed

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