You live in,
A broken home,
With a shattered window,
And a disconnected phone.

You travel with,
Your broken feet,
With rough pathways,
Leading to a blocked off street.

You see through,
Black and white eyes,
With a look so unwelcoming, tiring,
As you're badly disguised.

You sing as,
A bird in the woods,
Soothing and caring,
But fading away from the neighbourhoods.

I listen to your broken voice,
On a broken street,
With your broken eyes,
Hearing your broken heart beat.

And now I'm slowly breaking,
Make room for me,
Because with you on a broken street,
Is where I'm destined to be.