Broken Things

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(From yesterday)

Some days are days of broken things.

Like this glass I tumble, more fragile than I thought, and I must spend some of my precious time cleaning up the shards so that my loved ones are not pricked.

Though I carry the scars from a thousand other cuts.

And my efforts cannot keep my loved ones from being nicked by life.

Even the rain feels like tiny needles against my face.

I can dodge the pain.

And yet, there is no way to avoid the wet.

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