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Honour

Something’s faulty. It just doesn’t seem to fit right.


It sticks out like a pane of glass


Its jagged edges slicing through 


Leaving broken pieces in its wake.


But she keeps that tight against her chest,


Willing herself to breathe as


Everything pulls tighter against her chest.


She extends her hand, 


Delicately dainty, fragile


To pick up those around her


Raise them in their position


To teach them how to stand straighter 


While she bends within herself.


She is a tree, withered away by the winds that blow past her.


It’s strange


How can something that is broken


Work to mend what needs to be fixed?


She can spend hours uplifting those downturned


A glance at the mirror alone leaves time for those cracks to show.


Yet again she ignores them


Forgetting that not much can be saved 


From an empty shell.


Truth unravels often, through the passing of time,


To honour the people around you is a duty 


But to know how to honour yourself,


Is justice.