Mr. Repairman Poem by Asherain Anas

With the tools at your disposal, you never strived to mend the divide.
I've waited patiently, oh so hopeful, as I dance alone on a broken ride.
Hoping for the day it harmonizes, in tune, our hearts entwined.
All the love I possess, no compromises, all given, all yours, unconfined.
I cling to fragments, the bond we shared, searching for meaning, a glimpse of light.
The chances, dear, are yours to repair, you hold the tools, yet you don't make it right.
There you stand, observing from afar, do you revel in my captive state?
Witnessing me walk, my wings unbarred, inside an open cage, is it your desired fate?
Could it be me, the cause of this rift? Perhaps my choices led us astray.
Though you possess the chances, the lift, I still hold the power to pave my own way.
Even though I loved you fiercely, for far too long, my heart sought solace anew.
The cage you kept me in, once strong, I've departed, no longer bound by you.
The chances you had, the tools at your hand, they lie neglected, dormant and cold.
I've realized that my future is grand, beyond the limits of a story untold.
No longer I yearn for your gaze, I've found my strength, my wings set to soar.
In the open skies, my spirit ablaze, I've embraced the love I deserve, and more.
Mr. Repairman, your tools may remain unused,
But I've repaired myself, and my soul is no longer bruised.