Out of Place

I am a puzzle with missing pieces,
edges frayed where they should fit.
A melody just out of tune,
a voice too soft, too loud, too split.

I walk through rooms like a stranger,
even in places I call my own.
I mimic, I mask, I rehearse,
but still, I stand alone.

My mind is a storm without warning,
crashing waves that never cease.
Thoughts racing, tangled, colliding,
never a moment of peace.

Borderline lines blur and tangle,
love and pain in the same breath.
A heart that clings and crumbles,
fearing both life and death.

Autumn leaves fall and I wonder,
why I can’t shed and start anew.
Why the world moves in straight lines,
while I stumble, split in two.

My brain is a skipping record,
static thoughts I can’t ignore.
Too much, too fast, too heavy—
or empty, hollow, nothing more.

I chase a sense of normal,
but I don’t know what that means.
Is it quiet? Is it stillness?
Or just a life lived in between?

Yet in the cracks, I find fragments—
a shimmer of something real.
Not normal, not like them,
but something only I can feel.

And maybe, just maybe,
I wasn’t meant to fit.
Maybe the world needs edges,
where the light and shadows sit.