Pieces

I can feel my heart like a sponge having the fluids squeezed out of it held in a tight grip that does not relent the breaths I take are small my chest is too compressed I am broken into pieces, fragmented every piece different part of me trying to put myself back together but there are pieces I just cannot pick up when I do they cut me and I bleed How can I pick up the other pieces if I let them cut me The cracks these pieces form when I put them together, they make my surface rough I am always aware that I am not in one piece and the holes left by the pieces I cannot bring myself to pick up will always remind me how incomplete I am no matter how much I try what's left is left, and I will always be a broken vessel.