Broken
Poems of my lifeWhat makes me broken?
Is it that I am unlike you?
Or is it that I am like you?
If being broken means nothing more then fixing.
Does that mean I can be fixed too?
Will you fix me?
Or should I remain broken?
My heart burns.
My stomach chruns.
My head aches.
Am I broken no matter what truth is left to find.
I must be broken.
I can't be right.
I desire something that isn't right.
I breath something that makes me different.
I am something different.
I am me.
Not broken.
Not something that should change.
To be fixed is to be fake.
So I choose to be broken.
As my fate.
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