Broken

In the shadows of the mind's maze,
Where whispers echo of darker days,
There lay a soul, fractured, bent,
Bearing scars of time's cruel torment.

"Broken," they whispered, a label unkind,
In a world where perfection is what we're assigned.
Yet in that brokenness, a truth did unfurl,
Broken crayons still color, in a vibrant swirl.

Each crack, each line, tells a story untold,
Of battles fought fiercely, of spirits bold.
For even in fragments, beauty resides,
In the way we piece together our shattered insides.

From the depths of despair, a new hope ascends,
As broken pieces mend, the spirit transcends.
Embracing each flaw, each tear, each scar,
Realizing strength was inside us, never far.

In this journey from broken to healing anew,
We discover resilience in our colorful hue.
With each stroke of life, we paint our own art,
Finding beauty and grace in our broken heart.

For though we are fractured, in pieces, we stand,
Holding together, an imperfect, yet wondrous band.
When only brokenness defines you,
A broken crayon will still color true.

Backstory

1/13/2024 Sometimes we are told we are broken. But even the most broken crayon can still make its
mark.