Short poem

I used to be a big, black, macabre puzzle.  My pieces rigid, unfitting, and jagged.  My thoughts keep taunting me, asking me to enter that once black hole that I fit in so snuggly.  Maybe I was numb, unsmiling, but also unfrowning.  I was completely a shell devoid of all personality. 
A figure, dressed in all black, silently summons me back with a tilt of his finger.  I beg, I plead, but my screams are silent, separated from sound.  At one time, numbness was a souvenir I kept from the hostage of my thoughts.  But it cracked my pieces.  Happiness was a shadow that ran away from me like a hostage running from its captor.  Misery breached my trust with my own emotions, my own mind.  I was not free from my thoughts, in there I was tortured. 
But, God-willing, peace has bequeathed me.  There are moments of terror and unrecognizablele fear, but there’s also a light, guiding me to another puzzle.  One that’s shouting with colors.  Colors so bright they blind.  Blue, red, orange, purple.  Colors that create laughter with one glance, that cause peace within and peace without.  The sides of this puzzle aren’t serrated , but rather soft and smooth and fit perfectly  with one another.  Some pieces are still black, but they don’t threaten with anarchy. As the colors cause serenity, they beget peace for this entire puzzle.