Broken pieces, cutting deep.
Shattered glass, broken sleep.
Dreams wrestling, my minds heap.
A world so broken, a pain so neat.
They stack me away,
They box me up.
They hide my grain,
They cut my love.
I'm organized and small.
I'm kept away, not tall.
I smile like furniture,
But inside, I blur.
Keep pretending,
Keep it up.
No matter the day,
I'm just a cup.
A couch, a chair.
A plant in a lair.
I look organized and put together,
But I side is a storm, a weather.