We, the Brokenhearted.

We, the brokenhearted, navigate this world with smiles made of plaster and glass eyes filled with sunshine, in an attempt to blind the world. Although the exterior seems sturdy, when the midnight hour approaches, you can start to see thousands of cracks appearing. And as the moon continues to rise, she can  hear the wailing of those, of us, the poor brokenhearted beneath. The cracks sprea rapidly and all at once smiles of plaster and eyes of glass shatter into a million pieces leaving nothing more than a bloody, tear-stained "person", equally as broken, behind. Only the moon and her stars can see the scars, can see the hurt, can see the pain of we, the brokenhearted and only her light can sooth us into a slumber like state. And only slumber can heal our wounds. Weep not for us, the brokenhearted. For when the sun graces us with her stunning beauty she will once again fill new eyes of glass and set hard smiles of plaster so we may brave another day in this world.