Picking Up the Pieces

Left Picking Up the Pieces



I was four when you left me,

Everything changed when mom died when I was three.

I could tell you couldn't do it alone,

I never expected to be left on my own.

In a strangers house I looked out to see

A reflection of a lost little girl and she would be me.

Empty and hurt I went to sleep at night,

And nothing again ever seemed bright.

I was left alone to pick up the pieces

And to rewrite my hatred as time increases.