I never know if I should be happy or saddened when someone says my poetry is relatable. It makes me glad that it resonates with them, but also sad that other people have gone through the same stuff. Feelings aside, I’ve noticed that poetry brings people together — writing in general does, honestly. It’s wonderful to be able to reach out to others and say you’ve been there, and to have it said to you as well.
This poem is titled Fragmented, as I believe the word encompasses many of the thoughts and emotions people suffer through when at a low point in their life. Perhaps it will be relatable to you.
We fall, we break. Cracks running through flawless skin, the crimson tide ebbing out.
What we painted in fake, bright colors is washed away in this flood of red, exposing the flesh beneath.
We try so desperately to mend ourselves, too used to the colors that were not us.
The worthless person hiding underneath our art is not one we wish the world to see.
And so we’ve become fragmented.