In shade, I ponder, my hands are stained,
A strange architect, of fractured remains,
Piecing together, a puzzle untamed,
A better me, or a monster to be blamed?
This darkened chamber, my sanctuary and bane,
Whispers and echoes, of past love and pain,
An eye, an ear, from friendships I’ve known,
But can I be human, built from parts I now own?
This patchwork self, creation unsure,
Borrowed traits and laughter, a deceptive cure,
Am I a creature, of blackened despair,
Or a reflection of the good I found there?
The storm rages on, as I stitch and mend,
My hands tremble, uncertain of the end,
In the company of others, do I find my grace,
Or am I destined to haunt, a forsaken place?
Hopes and dreams, collected in the night,
Can borrowed smiles, shed any light,
On this fractured being, an uncertain fate,
Am I a monster, or can I recreate?
With every piece, a question looms,
Amidst the darkness, do I dare to bloom?
Built from fragments, a mosaic of fear,
Yet seeking solace, in those I hold dear.
A better me, or a demon, unclear,
A reflection of love, in a hall of mirrors,
Assembled from shadows, longing to be,
A creature of hope, or a monster to flee.