Look at it now:
there’s no pattern in the pieces
just a shambles,
a trail of trash
left there
where you had your accident.

No
of course you didn’t mean to
you ever do.
And of course you’ll try to fix it
but nothing broken
is ever the same afterwards.
Things may mend
certainly.
Some of the wounds you inflict
heal almost as soon
as you strike
but there is always some sort of scar,
a memory of the attack.

And this thing,
this shattered structure,
this will never be anything ever after
but a memory.
You have seen to that
and I will not soon
see fit to forget it.