MosaicA Story by KrisAbout being broken and picking up the piecesI stand in front of
you as a broken man. My chest split open exposing my heart. This pain I feel is
like being hit by a Mac truck, and then being picked up just to be hit by it
again. Pieces of my heart and soul litter the ground. Like glass they shimmer from
a fading light. The fading light of love pulling away. As the light disappears,
I am left in darkness. On my knees broken, in agony, alone in darkness. Looking around I see
pieces that have their own glow to them. Some are blue, some are red, purple,
green, yellow. They lightly flicker like a candle with a dying flame. Picking
up pieces and admiring their comforting light. Taking the pieces and putting
them together make there light stronger. I begin to carefully put them together
like puzzle pieces. I feel my life slowly
fade away. As piece by piece my mosaic of different colors start to take shape.
It seems familiar to me, like I’ve seen this before. The more I add, the more I
recognize what I am creating. It is me… The different colors and shapes of the
pieces are creating me. As the darkness enters the hole in my chest I
understand. I must die so the mosaic I created can live. Adding the final
pieces, the light is almost blinding. I continue to fade away, this is it, this
the part of me that can’t live anymore. © 2018 KrisAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on April 1, 2018 Last Updated on April 1, 2018 AuthorKrisOttawa, Ontario, CanadaAboutJust an everyday guy thats on a journey of self-discovery. I use writing as an outlet to let go negative thoughts and emotion. I was curious to see how other people thought of my writing and hopefully.. more..Writing
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