Like delicate glass, she was easily shattered As hurt and broken as the little pieces she gathered
Pushing the glass back together, the shards cut deep It stings and slices but used to the pain, she makes not even a peep
The glass is a window but the holes and cracks did not matter For soft drapes of a curtain happily hide the hurt beneath and cover the tatter
The curtains rarely moved but sometimes a little crack can be seen A glimpse of her hurt is shown when the harsh winds have been
Some see the broken pieces, some don’t notice, some don’t care They don’t say much though, they just try not to stare
On the other side of the window a better time with happier memories lay still She wonders, are they still real?
Like delicate glass, she was easily shattered As hurt and as broken as the little pieces she gathered.
___________________________________ Thank you for reading! A poem I made up using the prompt word “pain” :)