And from the tree I fell letting the wind take me where it pleased
so lifeless I'd float through the sky
where did all life go that use to flow so peacefully within my soul  
the beauty faded and the pain grew
the tears fell and it all ceased
every person I loved seemed to take a part of me as they left leaving with pieces that I don't know how to fit together , I would say I'm broken but that'd imply I could be fixed. People like me can't be Mended, our hearts have stopped far too many times and cried far too many songs of desperation, wore out due to a lack of love needed to keep pumping. People like me are not broken we are simply the dead disguised among the living
p.w.