Skip to main content

Broken Pieces


We're broken pieces
You and I.
May be we could fit in
Do you have enough room?

We're broken pieces
Stabbed with friendship
And love that was
Only a lesson.

We're broken pieces
May be together
We could be
A pretty mosaic.

We're broken pieces
But aren't mosaics pretty?
The random scattering,
The visual playing with your mind.

We're broken pieces
The ones that need 
No mending
Only time will.

We're broken pieces
You were always there
When I broke down
Even when you didn't know why.

We're broken pieces
May be I'll tell it to you
Some other day
When it hurts lesser.

We're broken pieces
Let me cry 
On your shoulder.
Let me hold your hand
Safely in mine
Through the bumpy ride.
Let my tears speak
For all that is to be said,
As I feel the pulse of
Your palm beat against mine.

22.09.17

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

About the Hillsong Peace Music Video - Rant

On the 2 nd of March 2018, Hillsong Young and Free released their first music video  that spoke of the issue of mental health which clearly wasn’t the type of video you would expect to see on a Christian Music channel. While I found the song to be extremely soothing, with the hate and false alarms being triggered around the video being dark, cultic (which I heard a little too much) or displaying creepy ghosts and bloody rain (laugh, if you like) I thought I’d break down portions of the video and explain it because oddly enough I’ve seen too many response videos and read too many articles and comments of people over-analysing the symbols on the video instead of receiving the message of God’s peace especially for those who struggle with anxiety on a mental health level. “I think for a really long time I didn’t understand what anxiety is. When I look back at my whole life I feel like I can see traces of this for as long as I can remember but it wasn’t diagnosed until I ...

Suicidal - Rant

I was born suicidal. Hang in there. Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those people with cuts all over my body trying to earn sympathy for what I am. I'm just trying to write something about myself, something I've never dared to write down or talk about. So please bear with me if you can. I was born suicidal. Writing it down itself makes me form a lump in my throat - it isn't something I'd like to read or easily admit. It's usually something I like to stay away from pretending like it doesn't exist, locking it safe somewhere at the the back of the collection of my childhood memories where I wouldn't want to remember that I thought differently about death. As a kid, I thought everyone just wanted to die. No really, every single person just wanted to die. I still remember when I was probably 3 (may be 5) I was watching a cartoon where a character was trying to save his life and like the questioning child I always was I remember asking my dad rep...

The Perks of Being a Missionary Kid (Part I)

      Being an MK (Missionary Kid) is quite an adventure. So why not talk about it? " Being a missionary kid is a unique, precious and beautiful journey. Ok, so there's my statement. 'Yeah,' you look at the screen, 'suuuure... Let's start at page one, shall we?'  If you're an MK chances are  you've got 'THIRD CULTURE KID' stamped on your forehead as well. Yes, I'm the son of a Malayalee father and a Dutch mother and yes, neither of their ethnicities blend with the people God has called them to work with. However, that certainly doesn't mean I feel like I've just stepped out of a UFO every morning I exit the front door. Growing up with two or more coinciding cultures is, in my opinion, the healthiest environment for growth, learning and a widening of perspective. I admit it's a sort of roller coaster ride- there are peaks and not-so-high-peaks  (ahem...) but every time I look back on my seventeen-year-short missiona...