Broken (Poem-Sreepoorna Viswanadhan)

All I have
Are broken pieces of glass
In my pocket.

"Why do you still keep them",
people ask.
Just throw them away
After all, it's just broken pieces of glass.

But here I am,
Being the stubborn little girl
That I've always been
Looking for someone with the right fix
To put them back together
To how it used to be
The invaluable, delicate, beautiful
glass sculpture that it was.

It will never be the same,
I know it too.
It's scrap now.
But those glass pieces are all I own
After the scars and battles that I've fought.

Sometimes I hold on to the broken pieces
Real tight
In the effort of remembering what it used to look like
Only knowing that I've bled myself
Again.