broken

I'm thinking of a word
that feels a lot like
broken
but isn't.
It hurts like
broken
it feels and sounds
and in many ways
looks like
broken
but isn't.
Beaten might work,
maybe bruised,
lost, or confused,
but not
broken.
It eats, sleeps,
breathes like,
broken
and bleeds,
sees, dreams like
broken.
All these years,
I've thought
the word was
broken.
All these years,
I've defined myself as
broken
because so many
tried to render me
broken.
Maybe I'm bleeding,
bruised, scared, confused,
one thing I'm not, is
broken.
I sleep, see, and dream
like the word
that describes me is
broken
but it isn't,
it's goddamn close,
but it isn't, and

what scares me the most,
is that you can't
fix what isn't
broken.

Horizon

That horizon, straight ahead,
that is my horizon.
No one can take it from me.
Not even you,
with your blank stares
and your doubting
and your degradation
and your guilt.
You can take
my heart, my sanity,
my soul, my body,
but you cannot take my sunrise,
or my sunset.
I have a future despite you
and in spite of you,
I will sail to the horizon,
with the moon to guide me
and return with stars at my side.