#44: Broken

A wounded bird,
A broken wing,
Inside her chest,
Her heart still bleeds,
It bleeds for the love,
The love she tries to find
To fil the desperate longing,
A longing she  tries to hide.
Though she tries and tries
With al her might to hide,
The scars written on her body,
Tell the story on the inside.
Inside, her mind races,
Thoughts flowing in and out,
She tries to suppress them,
Yet they still linger about,
The longer they linger,
The higher the pain,
And with a pain so high,
And a heart so full
Of sorrow and anger,
Her heart just shatters
With the slightest touch of a finger
She's broken inside and out,
But she glues herself together
So that everything seems fine,
But it never is, not ever.
A broken bird,
A broken wing,
She screams out loud
Yet no one hears anything,
Her beak taps against
The separating piece of glass.
She relentlessly taps
Yet fails to make a crack.
Her head lays against,
The cool slate of glass,
As she slowly slides down,
Surrendering her strength,
She finds peace, at last,
When a hand cradles her.
The broken bird,
Her broken wing,
Still a little damaged,
But bandaged and cleaned.