Colored Pencils

Staring at the world map long Enough to notice how the Pieces fit together perfectly Not a fresh hot mess Kind of like my mind fragments Except they don't fit at all And my memory fails me Like an owl perched over a Christmas tree Looking everywhere for Santa But nobody comes down the Chimney just a lot of silence Unlike the chaos in my mind The never-ending cluttered Voices that color up my world What could have been... I circumcised my inner circle. Drew outside the lines. And now nothing fits together Anymore I seek comfort Waiting for the Mars rover To map me a new world another map to color outside the lines Again