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Intristically woven and intensely painful this agony is raging in (angers unleashing) quietly depressing. She took apart the left over pieces of her heart that were left strewn all over the floor for the stomping soon by the feet of those uninvited guests. Oh, those kind of finds one knows of, some know, or maybe they don't know, so well. Oh well,  they exist akin to pain, anyway. She asks herself, should she have put such kinds of finds to the test instead of gathering her heart together like a jigsaw puzzle to be dismantled and put in a box to be forgotten about collecting dust on a darkly lit upper shelf in a hallway closet with the door always shut and peoples footsteps and laughter echoing by but no one opening the door with a visit and a there you are kind of smile.
    Why did she even try to hold on anymore when some of her pieces were missing and frayed and she couldn't even tell the color of the scenery anymore to make sense of the puzzle or even where the border pieces began and the middle ended. She just knew she didn't want to live and she didn't want to die. She was just existing in a space with the finding of her mind. Did she want to try or did she see tiny glimpses of better times on the horizon?  Why was it just so hard, to just breathe. Even that felt too painfully real. She didnt want to stay on a dark stagnat shelf tucked away and collecting dust and she didn't want someone to take her down and take her away from her painful reality. So she just stayed where she stayed in that closet of an existence that some called a shelfed life. And what kind of life was that? She kept asking herself these kinds of questions, wanting to scream and to rage finally breaking free of puzzle pieces in that cage.
    Those lies were the worst kind of finds in her life that people fed her (although it tasted bitter) they convinced her that it tasted like sugar and spice and everything worthwhile. Oh, Yeah! What a twisted kind of time from purely twisted types in the twisting of her mind backwards and upside down instead of straight and on the right path to success in life. They were so hell-bent and relentless to make her pay for their sinful ways. And, Oh what sinful ways they had. She need not elaborate on that subjective craziness. Some can get the jist of what she said, and some are fortunate enough to never get it (those are the Ones she need not pray for, anyway).
    She told herself; shes the only one who can go through such pain and piece herself back together, anyways. No one else can build it for her. Others can not release her from that pain, then there's no gain, or some old cliche that sounds the same. It's her time to rage and to put back together those pieces of her heart that will fit back together after all that painstaking building takes place. That prose in her broken places.
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