Broken apart sometime
Pieces that are hard to find,
Missing from the heart,
Isn't it dark?
When the puzzle is so complicated,
And the heart becomes so jaded,
A unfinished work of Art,
The Artist has left His mark,
And predefined
All that is devine
From the rose on the vine,
He turns water into wine
There was the mortar
For this world's son and daughter.
Patiently He has long awaited.
Until the puzzle is complete,
His hand gentle as He wipes
The tears from the cheek,
Only He knows that the poet will weep,
For all the silent cries left unheard,
As they fall on deaf ears,
And for the broken winged bird,
The poet shed her tears,
Life long dreams of love has faded,
She too cries but no one hears,
Still unfinished,
So complicated.
So jaded.
Broken apart,
Pieces that are hard to find
Missing from the heart,
Isn't it dark?