Brokenness sounds beautifully romantic.
Dreaming of being the one to fix your lover,
when no one else has been able to before.
Hoping that your touch will be the one thing
they’ve been missing all along…
But the reality is, some things
can’t ever be fixed.
I’m that broken thing…
do you still want me?
I’ll never work right.
I’ll never be that perfect dream
you had for yourself.
You can’t tell me that
you still want me.
It’s ok, though.
I’ll remain on the island of misfit toys.
It’s where I belong.
I don’t mind being alone here
amongst the brokenness.
It will always be better than knowing
I’m a constant disappointment.