Broken Pieces

The hurt in my heart has subsided

But my attentions been divided

Is it searching for something

Or that I’ve been shattered

It`s a quarter to the hour

She asks whats the matter

But my heart almost stops to tick

Theres my brain on the floor

My arm on the ceiling fan

And on my dresser I see my hand

I`m scattered around the room

In an illness filled doom

I think I need a broom

To assemble all the pieces

I use some glue

And masking tape

But the darkness lets me know

It cant help but grow

A thick vine that borders the edges of all the pieces

The vine cant be cut

And others say so what

The pieces surround me

With instability all around me

I blankly stare at the light

And ask god not why tonight

But why my life