There are pieces of me everywhere, <br />scattered about like sitting chairs. <br />Written down on paper squares, <br />shaped by the curves of letters. <br />People often stop and stare, <br />and read them has if they do care. <br />That I might have a word to share, <br />as if my pain makes them feel better. <br />Never to notice in the words, <br />exactly what I want for heard. <br />But with the tongue their fast to say, <br />what it is that they do think. <br />Breaking me back once into, <br />like dirt thats spread around by shoes. <br />counted not in ways by twos, <br />I am many pieces...<br /><br />saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-am-many-pieces/
