She broke.
She shattered,
Alone,
And alone, she picked up the pieces,
She put them together, not how they were,
But how she wanted them to be.
In the end her broken shards formed a crown,
So she picked herself off the cold ground below her,
She lifted her chin,
Wore her crown,
And became a Queen.
YOU ARE READING
Oneshot poems and stories
PoetryA collection of short stories and poems. Mild-severe trigger warning, some to a lot of these were written when I had depression. *I wrote everything please don't steal it*
