Pocket Full of Glass

There's nothing really wrong with me.
I've overcome the undergoing, ever seeking,
not always knowing
but there are whispers that say
I'm what I was meant to be.

So take me out to sea,
try me in the winds of my belief
and let me set sail on the horizon of my everything
I'm becoming.

If you've thought that recognizing a heart
meant knowing where it's ended before
and knowing where it starts-
shatter, then, all the mirrors you've seen me in,
reflections of the broken orgins
taken away by healing time and forgetting,

and save the glassy shards
in your pocket so you can feel them
and see this isn't so hard
now
under this new leaf.