If something's broken and can't be mended
we should put down our tools and walk away.
Things should be left as they are intended
when it is best to leave them to decay.
But pride insists to us "they must be fixed!",
and we are all slaves to our pride's demands.
When passion and practicality are mixed
we are left staring at our broken hands.
So next time that I find broken pieces
I'll put them in a box labelled "lost cause"
until all memory of them ceases
and they shatter to the sound of applause.
Who am I kidding? I'll still try in crazed care
like they're some jigsaw puzzle I can repair
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