I am Broken
Photo by Ismael Sánchez on Pexels.com I am broken. The words, sharp and unwarranted, slice through the fragile shell I built. Tiny, invisible blades, their power immense, carving my heart into scattered, irreparable pieces. My carefully constructed dreams, ambitious plans, vital goals— all crumble before this onslaught, a lifetime of building reduced to dust. My essence, fractured, lies on the cold floor. Why do these ephemeral sounds, mere vibrations in the air, hurt so? Why grant them such devastating power, to tear the fabric of our being, to leave us utterly immobilized? With a deep, shuddering breath, I rise. Muscles protest, heavy with despair. I kneel, picking mangled, bleeding pieces from the unforgiving floor, cradling the remnants, a silent cry. I try, with feverish intensity, to mend— reaching for glue, tape, harsh staples. But none of them hold. The cracks are too deep, the breaks too fundamental. A heart shattered by words cannot be fixed by physical objects...