Shattered Vase

My life is a shattered vase.

Razor sharp edges that cut,

if you get too close.

People are often afraid,

to help me pick up the pieces. 

So one by one I pick up the slivers. 

My hands bleeding and scarring every time

But onward I go,

putting my life back together.

Going through the pain

to make my life beautiful again. 

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