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A Broken Thing
I'm a broken thing. I'm a mosaic of bad memories, nightmares and anxiety with a few shiny pieces in the mix to maintain some sense of beauty. I'm smashed up pieces of past, present and future. I'm the building blocks torn down, stripped apart and paint faded, chipping - sure, I still do the job but I may give you a splinter. I'm the bike you rode as a kid, you rode it to rust and decay. The pedals always hit your shins, it hurt some days but despite it being beat down, you love it anyway.
I am a broken thing which means I'm a bag of cut-up cloths you use to wipe the oil away. I was once destined for something more but life changed my path and I had to become a recycled practicality, rather than an admired beauty.
I am a broken thing. I'm something you can't discard, you can't use for it's intended purpose, so I have no place. I am the watch whose battery died, yet you can't be bothered to replace. I am the remote control whose back fell off and it's too much hassle to hold it all in place. I am the gaming system that will not work, but will probably be good for spare parts some day. There are pieces of me that are useful, but as whole I do not function all that well.
I am a broken thing, living amongst other broken things, trying to find whose spare parts will mesh our own.
You're a different kind of broken. You're a watch that ticks too fast. You're a radio that tends to hiss back static. You're a spoon that's bent out of shape. You're on your own time, you speak mostly in silences and you don't quite fit in with the rest.
Sometimes I think we're the same sort of broken, or at least a matching pair. Like I'm a perfume bottle and you're the lid. We were separated and without one another we're useless. But it seems more likely you're the kind of broken that still functions, while I'm the kind that is more useful when you need to use a part for something else.
At the end of the day, we're both still broken. Just don't be sad when your clock ticks too fast for me to keep up. Don't be mad when my malfunctioning microphone doesn't detect your static. Don't compare your bends to my breaks. We are all but broken things, our fractures form in different places. I am perhaps more broken than you think.