Living in your brokenness
Is barely living at all
It is scraping by
It is eking out life
On its most basic level.
Fractured bits of existence,
Scattered here and there--
Fragments of your former self--
Litter the floor.
Those who try to approach
Do so at their peril,
Treading lightly
Amongst the shards
Of what once was you,
Lest they are pierced.
Your injury is contagious;
Fear of infection
Driving others away
Dreading a demolished life.
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