Misplaced pieces

There is not
A single thing about a person
That is easily understood

Humans are intricate, each unique
Made up of endless puzzle pieces
Forming this elaborate design of being

Whatever powers may be

They don’t create us as completed works
We spend our lives scrambling to put the right pieces together
Hoping to form some picture of ourselves and

We might lose a piece of ourselves
Amidst all the mania
As we are ushered along by the hands of time

We forget

So,
We learn to live without them

Becoming less
Of a whole person

Yet our subconscious still yearns for that piece
Spend enough time without it, and the mind begins to warp
what that piece was and—

Days become weeks, become years

Until we realize
This piece we so desperately wanted
Doesn’t fit

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