Pieces of myself

Are everywhere.

In the closet,

On the ground,

In my cabinet,

On the shelves.

The fragments of my soul

And body

Lie there,

Gathering dust.

You would think

It would hurt, to have yourself torn to shreds,

But it doesn't.

At least, not for me.

I barely notice.

I barely notice as I fall apart,

As I'm ripped apart,

As I rip myself apart.