Analysis of Broken but breathing



Broken but breathing

Here I am again, I’ve been here a few too many times before.
Like the crumbled trash that missed the garbage can, left carelessly on the floor.

The should of’s and could of’s still haunt my brain.
The lightening and thunder warning of the coming rain.

Time doesn’t seem to make it easier; just more days have passed.
And yet the heavy emptiness; the burning agony, that, of course still lasts.

Can’t keep myself together; can’t pick myself up, it doesn’t matter how hard I try.
It’s painful to breath; I’m suffocating, drowning; the only way out seems to die.

That thought alone brings me peace; like maybe true happiness might be within close reach.
What a selfish thought to want to be happy, to make it all go away and sit on a white, sandy beach.

Yes, I guess I’m asking for way too much, I’m just trying to find myself again; but who was that?
The one that saw the good over the bad, believed she could make a difference and thought she was more than just a welcome mat.

Maybe that part of her has passed away? Maybe she hid it to protect herself from all the pain.
But how does one gather all the broken pieces and what really is there to gain?

I really don’t believe time heals all wounds; certain circumstances rip them wide open like they are brand new.
Those people that carry us through are the true heroes. The ones that call to just ask, “how are you?”

The ones that remind you who you are when you feel weak and have forgot.
The silent hug, the boost when you need it, and sometimes a lecture whether you like it or not.

There really isn’t a perfect fix. The cracks are still visible and could easily break again without warning.
The best we can do is enjoy each moon as it rises each night and each sun every morning.

Life in general is a pile of beautifully broken pieces, each trying to find that one piece that helps hold them together and make them feel whole.
Breathing is brutally painful sometimes; but we play the cards we are dealt, because there is no choice to fold.


Scheme A BB CC XX DD EE FF CC GG HH AA XX
Poetic Form
Metre 10110 1110111101110101 101011101011100101 0110111111 01000101010101 11111110011111 0101010001010011111 111010111111101111 1101111001001011111 11011111101100110111 10101111110111110101101101 11111011111110111011111 011101100101111010001111110101 101110110110111101011101 11111010101001101111 1101011111101001111011111 11011011101100111111111 01101111111110101 01010111110010101011111 110100110111100011001010110 011111011111101101110010 101001011100101011011111111101001111 10110010011110111101111111
Characters 2,023
Words 378
Sentences 25
Stanzas 12
Stanza Lengths 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2
Lines Amount 23
Letters per line (avg) 68
Words per line (avg) 16
Letters per stanza (avg) 131
Words per stanza (avg) 31

About this poem

My name is Melissa Almen. I wrote this poem during the one year anniversaries of two miscarriages I suffered during 2020. Also, during 2020 I was working the frontlines of a small rural hospital in North Dakota as a nurse so I witness alot of loss and devastation personally while trying to home school my own children and work full time plus hours. There was not spare time to grieve or process these situations. I put my emotions and feelings into the words of this poem. Broken but breathing as we have no choice but to keep moving on whether we want to or like to.  

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Written on August 03, 2021

Submitted by zyiawithmelissa on August 29, 2021

Modified on April 11, 2023

1:53 min read
950

Melissa Almen

36 year old female, married to military man, living in small town North Dakota. Raising their 4 boys and works as nurse in her spare time. Loves working in her flower bed, watching her sons play baseball, football, and basketball. Needs a nap more than anything! more…

All Melissa Almen poems | Melissa Almen Books

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