Broken once more, into pieces I lay,
A puzzle to put back together.
I've lost count of the times this has happened.
It never goes back quite the same, I wonder,
Do any original pieces remain?

Once together, the picture is unrecognizable,
Feelings no longer matching what gazes back.
Fantasizing of throwing the puzzle against the wall.
If I can control the break, just maybe,
I can pick the pieces to rebuild.

Or is too late, the time being passed,
For the puzzle to even matter?
What if it's just left lying on the floor?
If I don't pick it up, let it be,
Will anyone even notice it's missing?

I dream sometimes, in bed at night,
Longing for someone to find a piece.
Maybe it's the one fragment they need.
Or was it already discarded, tossed away,
Lost now to time forever.

Full of foolish hopes, sweet lucid dreams,
Clouded conflicted is the man alone.
Maybe only the idea is left.
All out of answers, this puzzle me,
Whose pieces will ever fit mine?