Part of Me

Broken fragments pieced together,

is this who I am meant to be?

Little pair of hands and circuits working,

crafting what seems to be a part of me.

Did she know, many years ago, she was building a gift for me?

Scenes from movies, pages from books, the women in her family,

even the little leaves on the street, she used many things to build this gift .


A world of mismatched pieces, she's a different person to everyone she meets and

there is no one else like her.

Unique curves and edges, they contain her essence like she never left.

Manufactured by the heavy storms and smoothed over by the refreshing breeze,

all now a part of me.


This little gift of mine, I carry it with me all the time.

Her smile still hides in mine and shines bright in my eyes.

Something I thought died, but was just hidden inside.


I will admit it's not perfect.

It's edges can cut, but they can also help me get back up.

Modeled by generations before me, random books, movies and stories,

I never knew that what she was doing was for me.

Maybe she didn't know either, but I'm grateful.

She set an example even though she's younger than me now.


With this gift, containing a world of it's own, it feels like she is still home.

Maybe she didn't travel far, but just transformed into a different form

and lives in the little world she gave to me.

I was told we were separated after a scary incident in my family.

Maybe we aren't so different as I thought we were,

I mean she is the little girl who was me.


If she could see me now, would she be proud of what we turned out to be?

I just hope I am someone who we needed when we faced tragedy.

Her good heart still beats with mine,

so I guess that could be a sign that everything's alright.

Broken, not perfect, but that's okay to me.


These pieces aren't perfect, they are broken, sharp and smooth,

they are mismatched but move in sync to the beat of what makes me,

who she is, who we are, and who I am now.


This poem is about: 
My family


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