Becoming someone else

Where do you put the broken pieces

that won’t fit back together again?

My pockets are full from picking them up

and carrying them along.

They’ve finally started to weigh me down

those pieces, cracked and worn.

They’ve slowed my forward motion

and are dragging me back down.

I’m trying to learn how to let them go

and leave them where they lay.

But it’s hard to watch the pieces of yourself

lying alone on the floor.

No one is there to protect them

or to try and help them heal.

Just discarded, forgotten and left behind

exactly the way I feel.

It’s hard to let the parts of me go

that dreamed and believed in love.

They’re so broken now and if I leave them behind

I fear I’ll never know them again.

So I hold on with one hand to the battered and worn

and with one hand I try to reach out.

To the future, to tomorrow, to beginning again

to becoming someone else.