We are broken pieces,
Pieces of art,
Sometimes joined
At the odd cracks,
Hoping for completion.
Sometimes we are glued
To a piece so intricately
Carved, so well we gel
An illusion to dwell,
An illusion to live,
Until that one day
When we realize,
We are nothing but
Broken pieces of art,
Never the whole
But always a part,
The broken pieces of art.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We sometimes have to look in the mirror to see the person looking back. Good thoughtful poem.