pieces in poetry

we are all jigsaw puzzles
and we all lost our box tops
so we are in the dark as we cobble away
searching for pieces that may or may not be missing
if when somebody loves you but
hates the things you love about yourself
man, it is a monstertrucker
riddled with wedges
just trying to work out the wedges
let alone filling the middle in
with large swatches of blue sky
a million questions of wherewhy
not to mention the pot and the ritalin

don’t love them for who they
could have been or could be
love them for who they are
our bodies are the same as trees
made from exploded stars
don’t be a superfan of anybody but you
a superfan of you, at best
though if you’re a jerk, don’t be a fan of anybody
work on not being an asshole and play it close to the chest
this need for external validation is as damnable
just as much as it is an inevitability
best we can do is sift it out smartly
best we can do is choose our validators carefully

we are all scattered pieces
jangling mangle-ing loose parts
prone to warping self-reflection
in the deep down of our hearts