Lost
Looking at the sky,
I see all the airplanes pass by.
Boats in the rivers,
Glistening of the sea salt,
Looking for the pieces of the broken puzzle to my heart.
Patched-up for a purpose,
Stopped-up with a cause,
The string to my heart is frail and fragile.
Glass half full,
The world floats on.
People of old look at me and say,
That one is loved...
It's on the way.
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