I wish I could say that I was a
witness to the stars,
but that is a lie.
I would say I am a witness to the majesty of the great ocean,
but that is also a lie.

I can only be a witness to one thing
and one thing only.
I am a witness to the misunderstandings
off life, and how
little parents trust their children.

They look at us and believe we lie about
everything.
I only can say this about Him though,
he is the reason these puzzles exist.

They are all puzzles now.
each chapter is a piece
that differs from all the others.
Some can be the size of my mother’s knarled hands,
or small like my bitten down nails.
Some have jagged edges that slice
the hearts of those who read their words,
or smooth like the rolling waves that sooth all fears.
I can never figure how to put them together
because every day there is a new piece to add to the puzzle.

How to put these ever growing pieces is what makes these
puzzles challenging.
It is my self-appointed job,
to reveal the pictures
and share the experiences written on each piece.

These pieces come from life.
Many were born during those
hours in the
lonely house.
Some were born from other troubles,
but not many.

Stories were always my escape,
especially those magical “Once Upon A Time”
ones. I have my own “Once Upon a Time”
story, but it doesn’t start like that.

Innocent has never been a word to describe
myself.
It was always a word I used to describe others,
but now
I see it from a different angle.

Once Upon A Time,
I was a child
just like everyone else.
now, I’m older with some pure white hairs
falling from my head once in a while,
and everywhere there are aches and pains I shouldn’t feel.
Only now do I see the innocence in my
childhood self.

She’s ditzy, clumsy, and happy go lucky.
She’s not too bright and has boundless energy
(just like every other child).
Her favorite activities are watching the mindless cartoons on the TV
and video tapes of Doctor Who, for what else can a
lone child in a silent house do?

After that day,
(I won’t say which because even I am sick of hearing about it)
I don’t remember seeing that childhood self.
That innocence died a little I now see,
and it continued to die until it was completely gone.

Everyone always likes to say,
“If I could go back, I would change it,”
I only wish I could say the same.
However, I don’t see what I would do differently,
For what more could a ditzy child like me do differently
in that
complicated
situation?