Dust dances through the bleak shafts of light
that reach towards my heart.
I hide
amongst the tattered pages
of over-indulged denial.
I strain towards any warmth
just to find myself on fire; 
burnt out,
scorched hope,
blackened pulse.
  I'm only pieces.

I tiptoe over fallen obstacles
with grey eyes like concrete swimming pools,
inhaling poison on the breeze sighing
'come with me'.
Running away from light,
to find myself so dark;
icy thoughts,
frozen will,
icicle dreams.
  I'm only pieces.

Would you save me from myself
using your own hands 
or just weave a net to catch me
made from tangled lies
and sweet deception,
would you?
Would you hear the voice within my hands
or just kept playing the same bass line
to override the sounds 
you cannot stand to hear,
would you?

The world is bent,
I'm not for rent
because nothing is for sure.
I won't pay the leases,
I'm only pieces
of what I was before.

Dust dances through the bleak shafts of light
that reach towards my heart
but don't illuminate the hidden words
  'I'm only pieces'...