You look at me.
Eyes expecting.
You think I’m full.
I’m not.
I’m just an empty plate.
I’ve a crack down the middle.
What do you think I can hold?
I’m split. Yet you think I’m full,
I’m broken and useless.
A crack down the middle.
You still use me, even though I broke.
Everything just falls out.
One day you piece me together,
But I know I will just break.
You can’t fully repair something broken.
I’m a broken plate.
No matter how much you fix me,
I will always be broken.
With a crack down the middle,
Empty.