We all have broken fragments of the world
shards and slivers of lives lost
pressed into our hearts.
We carry them as they bleed out into the reality
we’re holding together with fragile support
our fingers raw and aching by time we die,
pieces spilt across the floor,
following us to the grave.
I am holding onto what other people have left behind
as well as my own scraps of the world
heavy in my heart and weighing me down
I walk carefully not to trip over
everything I spill as we exist and endure
the reality we cast around us.
Even if it’s raw and wasting we carry it forward
We carry it regardless.