MaxWritesPoems

The Pieces

I feel so broken.

 

My body and mind are in so many pieces I have lost count.

 

Glue, tape and staples are leaving my vocabulary. I no longer know the words that may bring all my little pieces back together.

 

I am slowly becoming an unfixable mess designed to fail. And fail I will. Broken pieces were not designed to work the way they once use to. They were created to be my downfall and I will fall.

 

So many pieces and no longer even a desire to try to put them back together. The product that there once was, the me I use to be, the instruction manual has left and now I stand before you, a mess, a distress, a disaster. No place to start and a place to finish has yet to exist.

 

My lungs are filling with the smoke of my once desires and passions. They have turned against me and are now looking to kill. Fill my lungs they will until I am choking. I can no longer breathe. They are ashes of smoke, burnt to a crisp. They represent my nothingness.

 

I once believed in a future where the sun may shine bright and the ocean was just a body of water that brought happy spirits to my mind as they danced their way across the horizon. The ocean was just an ocean.

 

Now your oceans of misfortune come to me in a pond. I see hills as mountains and they are all breaking me still. Something so simple causes so much pain. You’d think I’d be use to it by now, so much so that oceans would be oceans, and yet the only oceans I see are ponds.

 

I am in a room of darkness, with no light to escape. So I will chip at the walls and break this body some more.

 

My pieces will lie here on the ground, hoping to one day be found and brought back together.

 

Comments1

  • olivergreenwood20

    This is a constant mood of mine and you described it so well. Great Write!



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