The Janitor
Listen to the breaking hearts,
Shattering, skating across the floor, Left in pieces. Pieces that could have been picked up, Put back together, held by a glue of love, A glue that won't let these pieces fall apart. But no one listens. No one listens to them shattering, Scattering, lost in the darkness. The owner of this heart Has swept them in a corner. She sits alone, nearby, Making sure that no one sees them. She is crying inside, but she feels, If she lets someone see them, They'll just break them even more. Every time she lies about her broken heart, She feels those pieces shattering a little more. Reduced to breaking her own heart, To keep the pieces hidden. Soon all the others leave, And the owner is left sitting alone. At last a man walks by, holding a broom. He walks straight to the corner where her heart is And begins to sweep up the pieces. She starts to tell him to stop, But finds she is too tired to resist anymore. Let him throw them away. So he sweeps up the heart. He places it carefully on a table. She sits up in surprise. He begins put the pieces back together. "What are you doing?" she asks. "I found this cracked heart. I am going to fix it." "But how did you find it?" she asks in wonder. "I listened to it shatter." "Who are you?" "I'm the Janitor." Age 15 |