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I gaze through the broken pieces of what should have been with tears in my eyes. The beauty of love and laughter of what could have been but will never be. The broken pieces show the children and grandchildren that should have been but will never be. I pull the broken piece of me away and I see not love and laughter but hatred and sadness. The art that should have been is turned to trash. I see not children and grandchildren but aloneness and loneliness. They stole my children and grandchildren. They stole my view of love, laughter, art and children. They killed me but left me breathing. Breathing but not living. They left me living in the sewage of rapes river. I can see such ugliness through the eyes of a broken INFP.

As I gaze through the ugly sewage I notice a crack in the picture. I go forward to investigate. I touch the crack and the view crumbles into pieces.

I gaze through the broken pieces of what should have been with tears in my eyes. The ugliness of hate and sadness of what could have been but will never be. The broken pieces show the aloneness and loneliness that should have been but will never be. I pull the broken piece of me away and I see not hate and sadness but love and laughter. The trash that should have been is turned to art. I see not aloneness and loneliness but children and grandchildren. They never stole my children and grandchildren. They never stole my view of love, laughter, art and children. They never killed in any way. For I can see that out of sewage a beautiful garden can grow. I can see such beauty through the eyes of a broken INFP.

A broken INFP
 
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