I found out that,
living as an individual is a 300 unsolved puzzle piece.
Staring at loose scraps wondering what matches with what and who matches with who.
Studying the colorful blocks of pixels, examining fine lines of memories.
Minuets, hours, days, years run by.
You slowly start to constantly putting two and two together.
Don't know how many we have, some left unexpectly unfinished. Often finding yourself forcing unwanted pieces together that wasn't meant to be in the picture.
Shape shifting your figure to fit in somebodyelse masterpiece for the temporary feelings that wasn't necessary.
Cutting off your edges hoping they'll see the beauty in your glory. Anticipating they'll add flame to your dim light.
Never shave down your edges cause one day you won't able to recognize the person you were meant to be.
Forget who you once were before the universe could ever told you.
~ 🍯
YOU ARE READING
Piece Of Poetry
Poetrypo·et·ry ˈpōətrē/ noun literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.
