you get bits and pieces of people
hardly ever the whole thing
like little small puzzle pieces that make up their being
and you get small little pieces
every time you learn something about them
the picture will come together to form an image
it'll change like lenticular art in every persons eyes
the full puzzle could look like a monster to the model
it could look like a beautiful angel for others
for some it could be but a blank page
Hungerford once said beauty is in the eye of the beholder
whoever is the one putting the puzzle together
will see it for what they see to be the truth
sometimes the truth is just their point of view
not necessarily what is real
and not exactly what's true
but the thing about the puzzle is
to every person who buys a box
the puzzle will never be completely full
missing puzzle pieces that will never be found
the empty spaces will haunt you
clear glass pieces go in to fill their place
now full but just as blank
just a clear puzzle piece to cover the shadows
~does anyone actually know who anyone really is?
YOU ARE READING
confessions of a teenage girl
Poetryi'm invisible. my friends don't see me. my family doesn't see me. i am a ghost. a phantom of nonexistent matter. i don't exist. i never have and i never will. ~tales of the invisible girl collection of poems that i wrote ❤️ Best read in Baskerville...
