To Pieces

-To Pieces-
by
Keaton Foster



Who I am
Who I was
All that I pretended
Factuality completely bent
Logic broken
A being reprehensively spent
Now living on the wind
Devoid of his skin
No bones
No home
Just a hollow soul
Escaping what's known
For all that is unknown
To pieces
Separated from a once unified
State of existence
Scattered like rain
Quickly being dried up
By a furious sun that seems to burn
Brighter for me than most
Broken like a cheap vase
That never held a beautiful flower
A vase meant only for decoration
A vessel lacking a chance at its purpose
There is no point saving it
Increasingly fragile
With each repair
Until the point was reached
Where even faith
The universal glue
Would not be enough
To put it together again
So here I am
To pieces
Struggling to understand
Fighting to define my life
To sum it all up
Into a cliché sentiment
That those who remain
Will come to understand
I just want them to move on
Far past me and my intricacies
I want them to have a life
Far better than mine
A chance at normalcy unabated
That can't be so bad
So undeniably selfish
To pieces
My current state of being
There will be other states
But unlike any before
The fractured nature of who I am
And what I've become
Leaves little chance at anything
Resembling what I was long before
I reached such a state
Such a place of degeneration…


To Pieces
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.