Rupture.

Fragments in a whirlwind, carried by the breeze,

Blown into far off, distant lands that I can't seem to reach.

I'm lost in all the clutter, but still rooted to my spot,

Should I try to seize these parts of me, when they weren't what I sought?

A rupture of all that I am - or what I used to be,

Disintegrated chunks take place in sync with every far flung piece.

A flood of thoughts I couldn't think before, now meddling with my brain,

This unfamiliarity of myself is driving me insane.

And all that leaves is still incomplete, it's broken in it's way,

Then what is left when all brokenness drifts so far away?

I'll sit and stitch these unacquainted parts, I'll let them settle down,

But I can't find the same innocence in every scene & sound.