is it true that as i
look through the glass,
i see only me?
a reflection of what i was;
as well as what i will be?
it is so clear; yet so
unresolved.

perhaps the glass has shattered-
and fragmented pieces are all that remain.
broken bits will tell stories
a perfect copy, but not quite the same;
pieces gone, cracks are shown.
but the beauty and eyes viewing
see what they have already known:
a perfect image, in somewhat subtle
imperfection

but what of these missing peices?
where do they go?
will they ever return?
how will i know?

they are left to fend for their own;
destinies uncharted and unknown.
but not so much as a scream is cried
for, not so much as a dream has died.
rather, a new hope, a new reality
for what will soon turn out to be
the stronger pieces of the heart

but of this heart
it is so weak
so broken
bonds are no longer strong;
it is all but lost.
these missing pieces
were special-
they were the first time
for a true showing of the heart
and to show these;

expose these

would break it into thousands.

but the true test of these pieces is yet to come;
for, by twists of fate they came apart and undone
and if they must survive outside and then succeed,
the heart will once again bleed;
bleed with love
bleed with hope
bleed with the thoughts of happiness
and bleed with forgotten pains;
bleed itself dry of negative,
finding it's own gift to give.
a new heart is born,
through the pain of all the storm.
strong, built and new-
like the one, found inside of you

but what if i have no heart?
then what do i have to look forward too?
dare i ask such a question- with such hope
in my broken heart?
these bonds are broken
just as this heart is;
and the peices turned to stone,
thrown beyond the sight of eye,
and beyond the grasps of hope

well, then what IS inside of you?
heart can be the home of hell, too.
every face has a corresponding heart,
hot or cold or hard or soft
tough or broken in....

the hope lies in the thought
that one can be what they are not
and that change is a constant truth
disbelief is just a lack of that proof..

With out proof there is disbelief
Disbelief equals nothing;
Nothing to feel
Nothing to become
Nothing at all
Not hope
Not love
There is nothing, nothing for my broken heart to believe in
This heart with out anything
Is nothing.

06/14/2003

Author's Note: written out of a conversation with dru; she wrote the normal text; i wrote the bolded. ending changed 6/15/03

Posted on 06/15/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams