Broken.

Everyone has some secret that scarred them. Some small lie that hurt. Somewhere in that beautiful smile, a dash of pain. A little shard of brokenness, a subtle hint of agony. That little piece of darkness, of agony, of torment that is never going to leave our poor souls. Broken.

A little piece of her little heart, aching for that broken piece, she knows can never be replaced. Eyes wet by that tear that rolls down her cheek is always, always hidden from the crowd. For she can’t afford to show a piece of her that’s vulnerable to the world. Bottling up the pain inside of her till she hits that peak and screams in pain and wishes someone would hold her but oh no, pride comes and swallows her whole and she stands here, as if nothing is wrong. Broken.

That little boy, his eyes filled with pain and angst after a cruel day in the cruel streets. That heart crushed by the torturous hand of miserables. Beaten to death by poverty. Held down by social injustice. Tortured by words. Insults, oh the worst of them all. And yet, he stand up with his held held high, but with a shattered heart. Broken.

And yet, after all those two still strive for what is whole. Still tries to achieve what’s whole. That’s what’s beautiful. So beautiful. After all that brokenness burning through their valiant hearts, they dive in to deeper waters to get that one piece that completes them. One piece that makes them whole. It might not be the same piece, but a piece more beautiful, a piece that completes them, a piece that makes them happy.

And the beauty of being a broken one? There’s untredded paths for you to go an adventure on, to discover your beautiful self. Self love and self discovery. Everyone strives for something whole despite that brokenness inside of them. For things serene, perfect, eloquent and complete. People find happiness in perfection. Sublimity in things pure and intact. Unbroken. And being broken shall not be your undoing. It shall be your beginning.