Fractured Identity

In the fragments of a forgotten past, A face emerges, worn and vast. Torn apart, yet still it stands, A testament to the strength of hands. The eyes, like windows to the soul, Gaze out, a story yet untold. The lips, a whisper of what's been said, A silence that the heart has bled. The surface cracks, a map of time, A topography of love and crime. In every tear, a piece remains, A reflection of the heart's deep pains. Yet, in the brokenness, we find A beauty that the soul designed. For in the fragments, we see the whole, A mosaic of the heart's dark role. The face, a canvas, worn and old, A masterpiece of stories untold.