The fractures in my mind—
I can’t trace their shape,
Only shadows slipping through cracks
Where sanctuary used to be.
Thoughts splinter like birds forgetting flight,
Wings shedding light as they spiral up,
Tracing forgotten maps across the sky.
The labyrinth twists,
Veiling the contours of my mind,
Life weaving backward through time,
Unraveling into vines that tangle my limbs.
What’s truth when it bleeds from deception?
What’s a villain when angels wear cracked masks?
Reality dissolves in my grasp.
The fracture? Quiet,
A splinter in my youth—a mind divided.
Euphoria soared,
Plunged into grief where light couldn’t breathe,
And I, a shadow in the storm,
Laughed backward, tears spiraling skyward.
Deception danced, truth smoked away.
Chaos circled,
A circus without a center—
And I, its captive.
But through the glass,
I glimpsed strength forged in breakage.
Maybe these fractures aren’t meant to mend,
But to be worn like armor.
We are not broken—
Just reborn, even in halves.
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J.N. Rose 