The Jigsaw

I am looking at so many different pieces ,
Different shapes and colours 
Scattered
 but I don’t know where to start 
It seems as these jigsaws don’t 
Fit or have a purpose 
It’s seems as if my mind is playing games.
All the scenarios in my head makes sense 
But the reality isn’t what’s making me content 

I see a piece with a pound sign on it 
 it looks like it’s fitted with time,
But then time looks perfect with love,
Perhaps that’s how I want the puzzle to fit 
To society that’s fine.

I wonder why some pieces don’t fit 
My heart starts hurting 
My head pounding , my face drowning 
I feel lost with in it 

Not trying to give up , 
My gut feeling was subordinated. to my common sense 
I allowed puzzles to effect me that shouldn’t have 
I’ve created extra shapes when I didn’t have to 
Ignoring red flags , mistaken them for green .
Rushing through other people’s dreams
This jigsaw is tricky , because I don’t know what it’s meant to be 

I want a perfect clean image , 
But that doesn’t happen with out struggle 
What is a perfect clean image?
If I can’t even sort out these puzzles.
They teach you all the basics in schools 
But what about not letting a puzzle play mind games on you 
What about never letting money be only you 
Or letting a clown ass yute try tell you what to do 
Or a manager who isn’t smarter than you belittle you
This jigsaw is life , and only you can put together that perfect image no matter wrong or right