These Aren't My Pieces.

Tue, 12/01/2015 - 20:53 -- SLK

My chest is caving in,

But there's nothing besides the weight of a t-shirt

Against my skin,

Yet my chest is heavy.

And I must have been impaled with a bullet

Because there's blood draining from my heart,

And I can feel it sinking.

But this is nothing new,

And I have felt this way before-

As my eyes begin to disconnect from my brain

It becomes impossible to see my thoughts clearly,

And my head is off somewhere and I am lost

Because my soul and body have been divided into sections;

Yet I am forced to function like my pieces fit together

Just like a puzzle.

And if I am puzzle,

Well,

My pieces have been taken from those of miscellaneous boxes;

And I feel rather like I'm a maze because with nearly every turn

I find a dead end.

But maybe I'll get lucky,

And I'll stumble upon the one path that will guide me

To where I'm supposed to be;

But my destiny seems to have manipulated by those

Who have raised me,

While I'm still trying find myself.

And maybe when I am able to see my own soul in the reflection of

A mirror

Then maybe I'll be free of which has been weighing me down,

And I'll have escaped this cycling

Labyrinth of suffering.

This poem is about: 
Me

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