You had to reassemble me.
From bottom up to top.
To stop the tremble heckling me
And build me fitting broken pieces
Until I ceased to be a hollow shell
Who shook and wailed through life.
You had to fix me.
From the outside in.
Drag burned remains from memories
And build me painting vivid feelings
Canvasing over revealing thoughts
But still, a human who shakes and cries.
Ten minute poems.
Writing is hard, yo.