It’s broken can’t you see

It was something very dear to me

It has brought me joy for so many days

Oh all the times I would just sit here and play

Joy unspeakable joy divine

Just to know it was all mine

Now I sit here holding the pieces of what’s left of my joy

I sit and wonder what could I have done, Maybe I could have loved it more or taken better care or . . .

Maybe I shouldn’t have played with it at all; perhaps then it would still be here.

It’s broken

My life is open, now I am left coping with the agony of hoping,

That one day this will not be. That I will be loved no matter what . . .