Puzzle People

It started as form.
And became shape.
Into the pieces of my life.

Some days are easier to put together than others.

But
what of the scattered pieces?
Look in the jails, in the asylums, and at the handicapped.
Trying to find the broken pieces in their own hands.

Are we so powerless?

What am I going to do tomorrow?

Are we that powerful?

I place the pieces of today so that a shape will come my way.
Trying to find my broken pieces right in front of me.

But I don't want to know.
Because I'll die, once it is completed.

You lay your hands on me, but you are in my shape.
My life is not in your hands.

Nor mine is in yours.

Words should shape an idea, not confine one.

This is no riddle, no joke, no chuckle between friends.
It was here before the beginning, and continues after the end.

How do you interpret the shapes that existed?

I know I need a piece;its finding it - that's the hard part.
And when you can't find the piece?
Is there no peace in our time?

We cannot trade
nor copy.

We are individuals;unique, yet familiar.

What shape is your life in?