Where do all the broken pieces go?
The ones that no longer fit?
Do they go away, somewhere,
off to another place?
Or do they hang around acting
like they fit?
And who are all these perfect people
with their smiles and happy faces?
So in love.
I don’t believe them.
I see the cracks.
They’ve been shattered once before,
cause pieces never quite exactly fit -
when you put them back.