The Mosaic of my Soul

Society has convinced me that I should be one piece

One whole piece, with no chips, sratches, or cracks

But what people do not realize is that society is no human

It was not born with eyes or a heart.

What society refuses to see is that,

It is natural to become bruised

It is real to feel broken

What society cannot imagine,

Is the idea of one who is chipped, sratched, and cracked,

Is still a human.

Because being broken is the most important part.

You find all the pieces you never saw until they were cracked.

And you become the person you are supposed to be.

Someone who can chip, sratch, and crack,

But still become something beautfiul and whole. 

I am a mosiac, made from broken pieces, but still a work of art.

And I will never leave behind the pieces of my soul.

This poem is about: 
Me

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