I sigh as I begin to pick the broken pieces of myself once again. The pieces cut my hands reminding me of the sins and the wounds I bear. I see my reflection in the pieces of a woman who has not been whole for a very long time. I see the destruction and the pain of the broken pieces each time. I begin to put myself back together, knowing that I will only break again. None of the pieces fit quite right and they never will again. There is no glue strong enough to hold the fragile broken pieces.
Word Count: 100