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Naye Smith Dec 2013
Broken pieces of me.

You keep taking them away everytime you say goodbye.

Hollowed out voices whose octaves and intonations are but mere remnants of a once you.

Pieces of me.

Broken pieces of me.

You keep taking them away even when you say hello.

How did we get here?

This house is on fire and all I can see is smoke,

But we stand here burning because no one has ever swallowed their pride and built up enough courage and spoke.

Pieces of me.

Broken pieces of me.

I am looking for someone to give them to that knows how to glue them back together.

But all people keep doing is taking them and never giving them back.

Pieces of me.

Broken pieces of me.
Naye Smith Dec 2013
Broken pieces of me.

You keep taking them away everytime you say goodbye.

Hollowed out voices whose octaves and intonations are but mere remnants of a once you.

Pieces of me.

Broken pieces of me.

You keep taking them away even when you say hello.

How did we get here?

This house is on fire and all I can see is smoke,

But we stand here burning because no one has ever swallowed their pride and built up enough courage and spoke.

Pieces of me.

Broken pieces of me.

I am looking for someone to give them to that knows how to glue them back together.

But all people keep doing is taking them and never giving them back.

Pieces of me.

Broken pieces of me.

— The End —