There's only so many times a person can be broken before they can't be fixed.

I have surpassed that number.

I was broken when my father died.

I was shattered every time a cannon went off in that arena.

And I was obliterated when I woke up without peeta.

I am like a vase. I sit perched on the table, teetering with every jostle.

Until finally the table shakes and the world is ripped out from under me.

I fall and shatter upon the ground.

The people glue me back together. Doctors, family, nurses, friends, scientists, and Gale.

And just when the glue dries and I can hold water again, I fall.

And crack.

Only this time some of my pieces are missing.

And when they put me back together: I am no longer whole, I'm a puzzle with one missing piece.

But this cycle repeats itself. Cruelly. And I fall again and again.

Until all I am is a shell of my old self.

Broken beyond repair.

I am a vase; that cannot hold water because I am cracked and destroyed.

I am decimated and nothing will fix me.