Broken to half,
that's what they thought.
Broken to pieces,
that's what I thought.
Broken to fractions,
that's what I didn't know.

My trust was broken to fractions,
I didn't even know.
I was unaware that it could even happen.
But it did.
Will it ever be back together?
I'll answer that question with another one:
Can you put back a mirror
that's broken
without any cracks?
No, you can't.
My trust will always have it's cracks.
The only solution to get rid of most of them,
is to find me the right answer.
What will I say when I see them?
What happened when I left,
did I just disappear?

Will I disappear?
Will I be gone just like
water in a drought.
What will my friends think of me?
"Yeah, I'm glad she's gone."
"I will miss her."
"Who's gone?"

Broken in half,
in pieces,
in fractions.
Broken, but fixable.