Judgement

We are all broken.

My shards are sharper than yours.

But yours are more numerous.

Mine cut into my palms, blood dripping from my fingertips.

You wear yours with pride, a shining emblem upon your chest.

I forget sometimes, that it's not just me that is broken.

I start, when I see your brokenness displayed.

I hate that spark of surprise that I feel

When you dig a shard from my palm,

Kiss it.

Place it on my chest.

A bloody, stained crest of the battles I have won, of the brokenness I hide.

I hate that no one has done this before.

I hate that no one has done this for you.