I gather pieces to form a shape I thought I knew existed, but it was the uneven cracks that misled my memory.
I placed them wherever I could to make sense of purpose. It was imperfect in every form, and I fell from grace.
The shattered perception of my warped mind fulfilled my insecurities.
Found to be lost in thought, I face this curse of nature. My worth was never meant to be measured by faithfulness.
It was found in the weight of my blood, and how in every passing day, I lose this precious life.
