Something’s faulty. It just doesn’t seem to fit right.

It sticks out like a pane of glass

Its jagged edges slicing through 

Leaving broken pieces in its wake.

But she keeps that tight against her chest,

Willing herself to breathe as

Everything pulls tighter against her chest.

She extends her hand, 

Delicately dainty, fragile

To pick up those around her

Raise them in their position

To teach them how to stand straighter 

While she bends within herself.

She is a tree, withered away by the winds that blow past her.

It’s strange

How can something that is broken

Work to mend what needs to be fixed?

She can spend hours uplifting those downturned

A glance at the mirror alone leaves time for those cracks to show.

Yet again she ignores them

Forgetting that not much can be saved 

From an empty shell.

Truth unravels often, through the passing of time,

To honour the people around you is a duty 

But to know how to honour yourself,

Is justice.