My necklace broke,

Each shard a reminder

Of what once graced my neck.

Each bead, a token

Concealing me, improving me,

Ever modification

Done in desperation.

It was my wall

Protecting deceit,

Blocking out truth—

I am poor.

The necklace was pricey,

But I am poor.

I stole it, broke it,

Can’t return it.

But I can learn

From it.