I was whole, once.
At least I think so.
Just because I can't remember not feeling like a mixed up jig-saw puzzle
doesn't mean I wasn't ever a complete entire unit...
Or maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe I was born this way;
Seven pounds, six ounces of a broken soul.
Destined to always know how to treat others...
But not how to treat myself.
Created with a mind-set embedded to do right,
except when it comes to me.
I at least like to imagine I'll come across
The Superglue that will stick these scattered pieces of a girl