A piece of me is missing
and it is never coming back
It's small and unimportant
But that is beside the point
We are created whole
With every part in unison
I have a lost a small part of me
What does that make me?
It was severed with a knife
It shrivelled and turned to dust
Where has it gone?
Where is that piece of me?
Has it connected to the universe?
As all energy does?
Has it founds its wandering way
To the heavens far above?
Though within a day or two
It will surely grow back
It wont be that piece of me
Not in all actuality
What is it that takes its place
What fraudulent piece of self?
It isn't I that exists there
But some extension of something else.
Perhaps this is what it means
To truly be alive
Shedding pieces of ourselves
Replacing them from inside
Becoming something not seen before
A patchwork of this and that
Scar tissue melding with scabs
Pink skin beside fresh wounds
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