Glue.

There's not enough glue in the world to hold her together.

She's a match, flickering fatally in the wind,
lighted and left to live in the dark.

She's broken.

She no longer has the ability to speak,
to make noise, to fit into the mold
made for her too many years ago.

She can't.

They've put her too many times into that box
with resistance, her edges have worn and now
she's just another regular shape
that still doesn't curve correctly.
She tried fighting them away,
but they caught on,
and she didn't.
She was helpless from the beginning,
just fading between life
and the afterlife
without a true purpose.
They dropped her, smashed her into the rocks
and left her lifeless and lightless
and hopeless.

She' broken,
and no one sees.