Pieces of my heart
Scattered through time and space
With every chip, I turn more to dust
Like fireflies in the night sky
I can follow the trails to where the sorrow was planted
Garden full of weeds and decay
Nothing beautiful grows here.
Pieces of me
Taken from loss, from love
Unrecognizable in the land of the living
My heart is a graveyard without a Tombstone.
Unmarked, where nobody comes to rest eternally.
Alas here in this dark, cold place
A home of my own creation
I am the cemetery