We're all
a little broken,
a little tarnished,
a little damaged.
We each carry
scars,
bruises,
wounds;
some are invisible.
We've been
scuffed by life,
dragged across
the pavement.
We've been
crushed underfoot,
oppressed
by the masses.
We are all
tattered,
battered,
shattered.
But glass is
more beautiful
when it's stained
anyway.