The heart is like a puzzle, it is broken from the start
Pieced together incorrectly, then it’s torn apart
Scattered, mismatched pieces only make a hollow shell
It’s the middle that’s the riddle. This is why we suffer well
Broken, jagged edges lock in place from time to time
But, the picture’s so much bigger, with some pieces hard to find
Scattered out upon the surface, wandering and estranged
Longing just to be complete, they beg to be arranged
To pump more than a numb, and sometimes bitter, tragic wine
That leaves our souls hung over from the picture undefined
Trying oh so vainly to place pieces left ajar
As the picture in our heads still differs so from who we are
Sometimes the missing pieces are what paint the picture true
Each one cut so differently, to different depths and hues
Paragraphs and chapters in the story of our lives
Each one placed can bring a smile or carve us like dull knives
Until they are residing in the place they need to be
Coinciding with the pieces of what was and what’s to be
For broken hearts cannot be whole until they’re incomplete
For seldom do we realize just what it is we seek
Merely waiting for the one who finally chances to pass by
Who sees the very pieces they've been missing in their lives
For it’s the very pieces that we share with one another
Which make whole our broken hearts, and the broken hearts of others

Don't make me know your routine
Don't make me love your routine
Don't make me part of your routine
And then stop

Once it's part of me