There he was, picking up your broken pieces. He said, 'You're a beautiful mess', so he tried to solve you like a jigsaw puzzle. But along the way he got confused, randomly placing pieces where he thought they would fit.
In the end, he did make you whole. Looked whole, at leastーfor most of the pieces were just forced into spaces they didn't actually belong. Out of frustration, he turned into an impatient child, scattered you into pieces again.
Then there you were, hoping he would attempt to reassemble you. But no, he did not. Instead, he just left. Leaving you exactly like how he found youーbroken.
Until one day you realized, he couldn't fix you. He couldn't make you whole again. He couldn't, because no one couldーno one but yourself.
At last, there you were, picking up your broken pieces. It would take time putting them back together again, but that's fine. You embraced yourself and said, 'Indeed, I'm a beautiful mess'.
Uhm...not really a poem tho