Puzzled Pieces

Looking for a mirror; participation, admiration and validation.

Fears? Want to move past.. but, procrastination.

I’ve been told what is my reflection,

From behind keyboards, “meant with love”, and without apprehension

From the sandbox to the roster, web-wide world and the lunch table,

Am I worthy? Who am I? Am I sexy? Or capable?

Survey others about me, they’d have labels for ages.

Ask me about me? Could not fill the pages…

Browsing through the aisles of life…

By label and category, what is my worth, and who would dare buy it?

Are they investors, or just here to try it?

What is my purpose? My impact? My legacy?

What are achievements? Mine: Too vague to see…

I keep studying the covers of puzzle boxes,

Trying to assess of which my flock is

Where do I fit? Are those my colors, my vibe?

My posse, my colleagues, my like-minds, my tribe?

Who’s missing a piece? Can I try it on for size?

Not sure I would fit… especially my thighs..

Perhaps I’ll take a poll, ask the trolls, then just fake it or stretch it…

But I forgot to look inside, at MY core, at MY edges

Damnit! I missed it.

The palpitations, the feelings, the twinges

I do know my purpose, even if I can’t state it

Turns out all along I wasn’t just a piece,

I am a collection, a puzzle complete.

I’m also the paint brush, the carver, the store front…

I can re-order the pieces, add and subtract some,

But I’m not a product, I am a person!

I don’t need to be packaged, or labeled, or marketed…

I’m the investor, I’m worth it, and this life is my purpose.