A vista of blue skies and white peaks
One hundred pieces
Promising beauty and cohesion
Fragmented but whole
Each knob snuggling comfortably into its designated nook
Belonging nowhere else but in that hug-shaped space carved to fit it
so perfectly
I envy it
So sure of its purpose and place in the world
Sure of its belonging

I am one of 4 pieces, 20 pieces, 80000 pieces
7.4 billion pieces
Born into a family with no nooks to curl into gently
No hugs to slip into naturally
A world broken long before me
Its moral fiber cracking and stale

I slide into a box of displaced pieces
Colliding not combining
Searching and surrendering
One solitary piece
Nowhere to belong
But with the unbelongable