Who Are the Broken Ones?

Why would you blow up years, like they were

nothing but smoke? We were sisters in every season, family in everything but blood.

I carried pieces of your world, hands full of labor, love,

and hope. But somehow you rewrote the story, and I became the one at

fault. Now I'm driving back to your doorway, picking up what's

left behind. You say we should sit and talk it out, but you're the

one who cut the line. Who are the broken ones? Is it you

or is it me? 'Cause you wear a perfect mask, but I bleed