Shards of glass, tiny and sharp,
Reflect the pain of our broken hearts,
Once a vessel of hope and dreams,
Now fragments scattered, so it seems.

Each piece is a memory, a shattered thought,
Once so real, now turned to naught,
Our vision is clouded by the broken form,
Leaving us in a state forlorn.

We try to piece it back together,
But even with all the will, it is a...