Therapy Bits

In the mirror, I see a frame—
a face that flickers, shifts in name.
A puzzle scattered on the floor,
each piece a self, and so much more.

Some mornings, I wake as rain,
soft-spoken, quiet, full of pain.
By noon, a fire takes control,
with laughing eyes and reckless soul.

They call it broken—cracked in two,
but we are many, not askew.
A living gallery of minds,
each with truths the others find.

The puzzle isn’t meant to break,
but rearranges for our sake.
Some edges jagged, some are smooth,
all trying just to gently soothe.

Memories float like phantom seas,
who remembers which of these?
A scent, a song, a sudden glance—
and someone else begins to dance.

You ask me who I really am—
a question I don’t give a damn
to answer with a single voice,
because inside, we live by choice.

We are a puzzle, wild and deep,
a shifting forest in our sleep.
We are the storm, the calm, the flame—
and every one of us has a name.

So when you see me fade or flare,
know there’s a universe in there.
Not lost, not broken, just redefined—
a puzzle soul, uniquely aligned.

Puzzle – Word of the Day Challenge