The Broken Ones

We are the broken ones.

Our wings were clipped
And our sky was clouded
But somehow we had the strength to spread our arms and swing hard enough to shoot right through those clouds.

We are so cold.
Our arms can never wrap all around our broken bodies and shattered minds.

Our thoughts are runaway fireflies
And if you somehow catch a few in a jar, close it tight.

When we raise our hand to speak our mind, we are told to be silent.
But it doesn't even matter. You could never hear us from beneath the pile of rocks we're buried under.

We spend our days wondering if being tortured is really what we were born for.

Fighting back hurts so much it's just not worth it anymore.
We are mere shadows.
The only thing we're good as is a bad example.
As a warning for where you end up if you dare be different.

Our backs were broken and pieces shattered in the wind to make sure we never stand tall again.

We don't know our own names, nobody has said them in such a long time.
Nobody had a reason to.

We are simply

The broken ones.

Cicmila