Pieces of me losing in you
I feel like the bottom of a homeless man’s shoe.
What will I do? Where will I go? Shit, I don’t know..
This weather blows cold and the days blend together.
Pieces blow through and but really fitting forever.
Pieces are misshapen to sharp or too blunt. Never trying finding the right fitting ones.
Scuffed, marked up pieces of me. Bleeding, crying begging to be free.
Can do I go through this alone?
Without the pieces that I needed to own?
For me to be completed for me to whole
To close this gaping wound in my soul
Pieces of you fit sometimes but not always is the reason for this rhyme.
Lost is translation without any explanation
Of where I can find those missing pieces of mine.