Here I stand on a corner

Under a streetlamp.

Rain pouring,

masking salty streams on my cheeks

An empty hole in my stomach grows.

The void of unreturned love swallows me whole.

I look to the heavens for reason

Is there a manipulator pulling my hidden marionette strings

Laughing from behind the clouds

No,We are just figurines made of popsicle sticks to be easily broken in two

We glue ourselves back together

Healed but never whole

Alive but scarred.

These badges of pain

We carry till the final sleep.

We hate them for they taint our conceived notions of beauty.

We never understand our patch-worked hearts

and sutured souls define us

We are pieces of wood

Made unique with the splintering of strife

I wipe tears in the rain

My chest full with ragged shards of my heart

I glance at my feet,

See no puppeteer strings

To make me dance and sing.

That alone is up to me.

I begin to walk,

In search of glue

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