Broken Pieces
Now picking up the pieces,
From a heart full of bruises
Dementia, pain and depression,
Saturate my heart extension.
She was a walking rainbow,
I saw when the sun went low.
She was a rare specie around town,
Which I did not realize until now.
Just like a sugary fleeting vine,
Made she my life a tasteless wine.
Every night I sit and ask the moon,
Why did she have to leave so soon.
I wish I could turn back the clock to gain;
Her, I will be willing to take a bullet, through my brain.
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