Do we have compartments inside,
Places where we store our thoughts,
Some forever locked away,
By all the fears we’ve caught,
Do those thoughts reflect in the eyes,
Or are they never seen,
And when faced with all our dreams and hopes,
Do we question what they mean.
Different facets make us whole,
Each piece makes us complete,
As the mind battles all the parts,
Yet the heart it can’t defeat,
At times we seem to second guess,
Those things we know are true,
And as we gather our pieces around,
A silent piece is you.
Incomplete without your touch,
You’re still a part of me,
And as I wonder how you are,
Though imprisoned the heart is free,
Dreams and hopes become a part,
That we feel and sometimes touch,
But as we reach for our completeness,
Does that missing piece become our crutch.
If someone is a part of you,
Are they a piece you have to hold,
And if they aren’t in your arms,
Do they become a part you’ve sold,
All the pieces put together,
Add up to who you are,
And I hold on to what I feel,
But dreams only go so far.
Through the years we become complicated,
Oversimplifying all we feel,
At times failing to realize,
That each part is very real,
We have the parts inside of us,
As we pretend to search for the pieces,
As love becomes a binding force,
That each day only increases.
A perfect life does not exist,
Some might be better but some are worse,
And in the end we’re all the same,
Our final ride’s in that hearse,
Different pieces are put together,
With the most important piece our heart,
And with the heart being a piece,
It’s you that’s a piece of that part.