I like writing poems, who knew? expect more...
day after day
week after week
we search our mind but do not know what to seek
a space is missing, in life's jigsaw a piece is gone.
its a tricky one. a piece may fit but wont agree with the picture.
do I seem dull? incomplete? not myself?
That would be normal that would make sense
im still unhappy I haven't found my piece
I've looked everywhere. irationality takes over
paranoia becomes a friend to help me look
I found out a shop sells my missing piece
only to find its another which just fits
it fills the void but dosn't belong
This is why I act so wronged
im puzzled and puzzled and puzzled again
untill I find myself shopping without money
for something that can't be bought
untill I find myself waiting without sleep
for something that can't be found