The Broken Pieces of Me

A Poem about being overran by society. About how other people are trying to get ahead of you in the rat race.

Souls trading sidewalks daily, a stampede running its riot, crushes me with each new step, I’m laying down, I’m used as their surface.

The broken pieces of me, shattered all over the streets, London or New York, I’m unable to catch a break in life.

A treasure hunt has finally begun, angels becoming pirates, shattered pieces of my soul, receiving hope of day light.

Does success have a face? Sixteen chest holding parts of my soul, I’m constantly buried deep in the ground, its grave keeper will never be unemployed.

I’m counting failure number 17, chests getting smaller and smaller, three parts of a soul left, clinging to the tiniest of hope.

Today or tomorrow? I needed to live yesterday, as I walk down another sidewalk, will my time ever come?

Failures in life matter very little when we have a strong hope and belief in ourselves.