Prisms of my Past

A poem a friend and I wrote when we got caught writing notes and served a detention.

Among the shattered rainbows
The prisms reflect my sins
The tales of my past
But, oh, where do I begin?

Shall I start with love unknown?
Or love never meant to be?
What about the bonds of love?
And the missing part of me?

These things tell of their tale
And speak on their own accord
But that which is missing
Is what I cannot afford.