My life is a puzzle with pieces that don't fit,
Corners word down, edges split.
It's quiet in places it used to scream,
And loud in the ruins of every dream.

It's cracked like glass, chipped at the seam,
But it still reflects every hope, every theme.
Some days it sinks, some days it stands-
But even in chaos, it holds out its hands.

My heart? A bruise that still beats true,
A mess of old battles I somehow lived through.
It's not some masterpiece you hang up proud,
But it's mine- still here, still loud.

Little. Broken.
But still....good.
And maybe that's enough.
Maybe that's more than it should.