Un-mend-able [POEM]

Sometimes the torn is too torn to be mended wounded so badly to be healed broken is too scattered to be put together no matter how gently the knitter knits the wounds to put together a picture that was torn a hundred times it is broken too deep to have any memory of being whole.

But all i love is night

from those aroundI hearpeople love lightsunshineall brightthey think it’s all joy and delightthe daythat brings activitiesand for people to further strive but all i love is nighti don’t see it darkor evilas they call it without a clear sightthe darkness of nightbrings many a thingsto my plightall i feel is peaceeveryone half deadhalf dead bodieswith … Read more But all i love is night