Will I even be whole again?
In shards and pieces,
a reflection cracked,
but still together
on the surface.
Broken
by the past,
by disease,
by understanding
too well
that this monster
is me.
A forsaken identity
Unable
to be abandoned
Unable
to be freed.
Cracked
But not
Shattered.
In limbo
Still alive
But dead
on the inside.
The number
Ten.
A whole of a part,
is imitation for
seven, for
wholeness.
Trying too hard,
missing the mark,
awkward,
and deceived.
Will forlorn hope
be all that's left
of me?
*Note: In Hebrew seven is the number the signifies wholeness, and the number ten signifies a whole of a part, which is less than a whole of a whole, as though ten shoots too far and misses the mark.
