Everything is eventually broken.
Crushed and shaken and destroyed
Leaving only the dust from our bones
And a splash of color
From the heart that used to beat out religiously
The things our body needs to survive
Blood
And
Love
And probably Hate too,
And when I die I want to go out in color.
Bright hues and
Lots of noise
And maybe even an explosion or two
Just so that I can say that I made an impact on this world,
Even if that impact is nothing but adding to the miserable mural that is life,
My blood and guts and the wispy silver of my soul.
Humanity’s finger-paints.
Sometimes I wonder what makes everything so broken.
If it is some messed up sadistic God in the sky
Or just the silent but ever-present passing of time
That rips us slowly to pieces
And scatters our remains among the grass.
All I know is that
As I get older I feel like my soul is slowly dying
And it makes me sad because inside I know
That all this time I’ve been trying to remain unbroken,
But I’ve really been cracked all along
So there is nothing I can do.