Broken Windows

My life used to be a perfect stain glass window;
the type youd see in a church.
My family, myself, these were all things I was proud of.
one day its like a baseball flew threw its colorful panels.
It's beauty remained in a thousand tiny pieces.
It wasn't so beautiful anymore.
I tried so hard to fix everything.
I cut my hands on the glass over and over again.
But eventually I realized that if I kept trying to fix this mess,
I would bleed myself dry.
every day I still cut my fingers trying to fix this.
I'm running out of bandaids.
I'm running out of time.

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