Posted in New Work, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth, Thoughts and Ruminations, Uncategorized

Enigma of Existence

I feel like that lone puzzle piece
that doesn’t really fit
into any other puzzles

And yet, hope of finding its true place
is the enigma of its existence –

It’s worn enough around the edges
that it can pretend to fit for a while
in mildly disjointed puzzles;
Until it pops loose,
and is exposed as abnormality…

Cast aside
until itΒ almost fits into a different puzzle.
And so such cycles continue until
it’s cut to fit
and lacquered,
pressed into place –

Uncouth edges
suddenly glossy and smooth
which only really emphasize
its uncertain position…

How unique it was
When set carefully apart.


Curating Personal Year 9. Wife and mom of 3. Writer. Zentrovert. Aspiring Engineer. Resident Badass.

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