You scattered the pieces
Threw them to the ground.
Whether you meant it, I don't know.
I get on my knees,
Broken
Tired
Hurt
Empty
Because of the mess that lays on the floor before me.
I gather them up.
Like a puzzle that needs to be put back together.
But with every time it's smashed,
A piece goes missing
A piece gets bent
Nothing quite fits like it used to.
How many times can this puzzle of a heart survive?
All the smashing
All the damage
All the weight it bares
It takes its toll
And the picture it once depicted?
Warped
Abstract
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