Just One Part

The hardest part- and I’ve realized recently that there is only just one,

is
accepting that we are all flawed.

It’s the outline of the human condition:

the basis for every good story-

needs the pain of the protagonist screaming into the bitter,
night air with no one returning her cries,
with not even one star blinking from above.

We need
the lowest of the low within each of us
to find
the deepest,
and the saddest
and the thickest
behind the low
in every
one else.

That’s when we realize we aren’t alone.

Even Alive in Wonderland missed perfection.

She had her fears and her constant stream of tears,
she wasn’t happy being too tall and
she wasn’t happy being too small.

The best rhymes don’t have an end.

The best part -and I’ve realized recently that there is only just one,

is
waking up from on top of the broken looking glass.

It’s remembering the reality that brought you to that first dream.

Then you stand up in your shattered pile
and let the broken pieces be seen,

You know you aren’t the only one
who has ever slipped down the rabbit hole.