It's a never-ending puzzle,
One that changes and shifts
Some will leave, or drift away,
While new pieces come to fit.
There's pieces that try to fit in,
But are always drifting
A little too far
To be the true, right, piece.
There's pieces that leave,
Voluntary or not,
And when they leave,
There's a piece felt gone.
But there's always room
Somehow for a new one,
If it's comfortable and gentle,
Then it's bonded with love.
Just don't force a piece to fit,
Or two might just break
From the struggle of
Fixing a missing ache.
YOU ARE READING
8th Grade Poems, To and From
PoetryAnother collection of poems from 8th-grade minds! These poems conclude our personal struggles, ups and downs, and friendships (with one another and others) throughout this year. We hope you enjoy and find special meaning for yourself in these poe...
