I hold this puzzle in my hand,
This puzzle full of pain,
It still beats,
But not like it did once before.
Now is the time to put it together again,
You were supposed to be the glue,
That stopped this from happening again,
But you were the hand that wiped the table clean.
This puzzle means the world to me,
The only one I can never seem to finish,
Like the greatest drama,
This puzzle is full of second guesses and uncertainties.
I start this puzzle over once again,
With little hope of completion,
Just like the boardgames of childhood,
It will be thrown in the attic to collect dust.
As the years go by fast and slow,
The puzzle will be forgotten until a rainy day,
It will be pulled down and dusted off,
And started over once again.
