Plaster of Paris


We all have plaster of paris on some part of our life
In some place within us, there’s a bone that was broken
A promise not made
Or not fulfilled
Each of us has plaster of paris slathered somewhere
Painted over with hopes and dreams
Sparkles of hope
Over layers and layers of plaster of paris over the bone once broken by a person
We often call them the devil
Or evil
I wonder if there are bones broken on their body over us
I wonder if the brokenness was mutual
We are all wonderfully broken creatures meandering through life
Wondering where our next love will come from
Or our next broken bone
Wondering how to go through life without the existence of that one
Because we are all broken somehow
We all have plaster of paris, broken bones and sparkles
We thrive on the sparkly goodness
So that we can somehow fool ourselves into thinking the brokenness isn’t there, that the
Hurt is gone
But it isn’t. And that’s ok
It’s okay to still be angry
To still feel pain
To still not so secretly wish that the person would suffer the pain they put you through
It’s okay to feel broken
And still want love

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