What pain it must be
To be one of two
When two were one
And the other is done
Leaving one as one half
Not even a whole.

There's not much left
When you're not complete
When the rest of you
Has departed from sight.
You are useless then,
When  you are the other part
To the missing piece.

No wonder he cries
In the night for his brother
No wonder he waits alone
For the one that won't come.
No wonder he cannot
Give up on his hopes
He'd have nothing if he did.

At least there's some good
Lucky, he's not an outcast.

That pain, I hope to never know.
If all is together, uniformly one,
Then to be left out
Is to have never existed.
To be one divided by all
Is less than one over infinity.

I understand what it is
To be one half or one third
But if I was one
Divided by the world.
If I was the last one left,
I think I'd prefer death.