Puzzle Pieces


He wakes,
Empty of recollection, when so much
Has transpired in moments, erased,
Frantically, he tries
To steady his bearing
While everything whirlwinds
Through his brittle mind,
Shocking the stems, of uncertainty,
He stumbles, smacks and knocks
Over a weak, wooden table
Spilling, what it cradles,
A dirty blade, scraping
Across the forsaken hollow hole,
Crashing, into splintered glass,
He quavers over, and collapses
In arms reach of the blade,
But he doesn’t grab it,
Instead, he stares at himself
Studying the stranger
In the rusted reflection,
Still trying to put together the pieces
Of the shattered puzzle,
When he discovers a stain, dragged
From where he lays
Across to the wide door,
He slowly pulls himself, slithering
Along the stretched path,
Lies a rigidly sharp, broken nail, one
After another one, along the dry trail
As the puzzle starts crumbling together,
Finding fragments of devastation
Beneath the wielding hand
That struck against, what resides here
In the barren shadow,
He creaks over, onto his back
With sight hazily focused on the rafters,
And what dangles from it,
A soft chime, which only now
Can he hear it’s call to him,
Watching it clink against it’s own noose,
Tremors, becoming violent
In the bleeding clarity of his gaze,
When he sees the convergence
Sparked, from the pendant above,
Bringing together, all at once
The entire vacant puzzle,
The man walks in, crushing a picture
Between his dirty fingers,
A hard man, cold and heavy,
Barging in where the boy resides,
Unsheathes his dagger, blinding
Sight in the reflection of darkness,
The man demands the pendant
To be put back into his possession,
Screaming that is all get has of her,
The two have fought for the last
Piece, of her,
Lost, to when she bore the boy,
He blames the boy
For ripping her away,
As the boy refuses to relinquish
Possession of the pendant,
The man drives the blade
Through the pendant, into his son,
He jerks the blade out, sending
The pendant into the rafters,
The boy, still alive, gasping for him
As he drags the body towards
With the boy, clawing at the floor,
The father opens the door
Beneath him,
Feeding his son, to the flame.
The puzzle is put back,
Only to be ripped apart
And scattered into the lost, again.

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