Broken Bones Still Hurt

In my soul, 

I feel broken and shattered, 

like something's there, and it's definitely scattered, 

like broken glass, 

my heart is shattered.

But who's to say that this is real,

that it isn't a dream, 

because it doesn't have zeal.

I'm on the edge, 

of a breaking dam, 

just finding out, 

who I am. 

But now I know that my life is battered, 

and bruised,

fitting still mattered.

and all of this time 

the pieces still clattered. 

And now that I know, 

between right and wrong, 

who am I to deny I'm strong?

And yet who are they, 

to say the feeling isn't lifelong?