Pieces of Oneself

I sit here with my heart and soul,
Remembering who I was before.
All the words, all the pain,
Comes back to me with much to gain.

My family remembers my existence,
When it suits them most often since.
And friends get busy while my break slowly ends,
Bringing about the end of my own mends.

It’s not about being a person anymore,
It’s about being more.
And losing oneself to the hole in the chest,
Creates one cynical and sadistic mess.

The words I hear, another knife to my soul,
Oh, when will I be whole?
A broken heart, they say may mend,
But I feel that it brings about an end.

Feelings here, logic there,
Seems there is no place to hear.
With all my pieces on the floor,
Who am I truly when I leave the door?