A Dead Soul

My world is just spinning around the sun

My life is memory of death and hurt

And I am nothing, nothing but a shell of a person that once was

I am meant to have an escape, a mate, another half, someone made just for me, someone to finish the puzzle and fix the broken pieces. But what if all the pieces are broken, no, not broken, destroid turned to dust and blown away by the wind? What if there aren't any pieces to fix?

Your soul is meant to leave after you've died, mine left before

But what if my dead soul is screaming for revival?