All these pieces hold onto a single thought…
A single memory that tempts me to believe…
That if I could piece back together these pieces of me…
I would be able to see who I am…
So I grasp a piece…
Raise it up to my eyes…
I see…
A form of me I’ve been trying so hard to hide…
Those with sight are still blind…
For my smiles hide all pains inside…
You can’t see my heart…
Only this facade…
Well crafted “Art”…
Tailored to each individual part I must play…
Sadness is that stowaway…
Forever locked…
Keys exchanged for this scarred face…
Pain…
Silent Scholar 