The Red Street

As I walk through the red street,

The street covered with red-tinted broken pieces,

Stepping every time, I kept tripping over them.

Pick them up. They reminded me of the lesson I yearned,

And I continue walking down the red street.

As I walk through the red street,

I stumbled, kneeled down to look at them,

Picked up a piece, introduce “broken trust” to me.

“Trust the world, but not too soon”.

Took that piece, continued walking through the street.

As I walk through the red street,

Lost my balance to another piece,

Picked it up, “lost happiness” talking to me,

“I stay deep inside you, attaching me outside will bring no good”.

Took that piece, continued walking through the street.

As I walk through the red street,

Stepped, injured over another piece,

Picked it up, ‘damaged worth’ yelling at me.

“Priceless you have always been, cease seeking validation”.

Took that piece, continued walking through the street.

As I walk through the red street,

I hear a deep sound of pain,

I looked back. Broken pieces all belong to me.

The red street was my wounded heart,

I glued all its pieces, learned the lesson,

Continued walking down the new street, this time with hope and wisdom.