THYSELF, MYSELF

IM SITTING WITH A BUNCH

OF LITTLE PIECES

I RIPPED THEM UP

I PUT THEM THERE

THEY HURT AND THEY CRY

AND THEY KIND OF KNOW

WHY

THEY ALWAYS KNEW

THEY ALWAYS KEPT

KEPT QUIET

WATCHED

REMEMBERED

I ALWAYS KNEW

DIDN’T I?

 

I GUESS THEY’RE PEACE

EACH BROKEN SHRED

THEY’RE SITTING THERE

STARING AT ME

THEY’RE ALWAYS MINE

EVEN TORN

OKAY

OKAY

SO WHAT DO I DO WITH

THEM EACH PIECE?

BROKEN SMOTHERED

USED WORN

 

I GUESS I SUPPOSE MAYBE

THE POINT THE NEED

THE URGE THE

DESIRE

IS TO FEEL THEM

HURT

THAT’S WHAT THEY ARE

 

IM SITTING WITH A BUNCH OF

LITTLE PIECES

I RIPPED THEM UP

I PUT THEM THERE

 

THEY’RE CRYING

AND I DON’T WANT TO

THEY’RE CALLING LIKE AN ANIMAL

SHORN WITH PAIN

MADNESS AND SADNESS

CLAWING INTO EACH PIECE

THEY’RE MY WAY TO PEACE

ARENT THEY?

 

I’M ALL THESE LITTLE PIECES

I DON’T WANT TO BE

ALL THESE LITTLE PIECES

ARE MY WAY BACK

TO ME

 

 

by Daphne Shadows

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