I’ve been known to give more of myself than I can recover.

I will sacrifice every ounce of me, until I am sick,and even then, I will continue to give.

I don't blame the world for this, I don't consider anybody in debt.

But when I am crawling on the floor, I can't help but to hope for my soul to be returned so I can stand once more.

Only recently did I realize that I've spent so much time being what others need me to be, that I am no longer whole.

When I look in the mirror, I don't even recognize my face anymore.

It seems when I asked for myself back, the universe handed me scattered pieces that I'm supposed to put back in place, except, I don't know what the original looked like.

I guess that's what happens when you divide yourself between so many.

But who can judge me for wanting to do what's best? 

For wearing so many faces, for giving more than I have to offer, when this world is in so much pain, I thought a piece of me would make it a little better…

It seems I've given more than just a piece.

Now all I can do is hope this patchwork of a person is enough to get me through life.