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Patchwork People

As we walk along this road of life,
Plagued by doubt and torn by strife,
We all lose those once close and dear,
It brings us sorrow, brings us tears.

Yet each time our hearts entwine with another,
Whether lover or parent, sister or brother;
A portion remains of the one now departed,
Be it good or bad, cherished or guarded.

So many we lose, so many portions remain,
Am I still myself, how long will I be sane?
A part of each of them, living on in me
Who has truly died, will I ever see?

Shattered in a million pieces, a shard in each of you,
Each missing piece replaced by a memory or two.
Glued together without thought, pattern or design,
Still I search for truth, meaning or a sign.

We're like a crazy patchwork quilt,
Or a house some demented madman built,
Frozen moments disjointed out of time,
Meaningless doggerel without rhyme…


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Patchwork People