Colored Pencils

Staring at the world map
long Enough to notice how the
Pieces fit together perfectly
Not a fresh hot mess
Kind of like my mind fragments
Except they don't fit at all
And my memory fails me
Like an owl perched over a
Christmas tree
Looking everywhere for Santa
But nobody comes down the Chimney
just a lot
of silence
Unlike the chaos in my mind
The never-ending cluttered Voices
that color up my world
What could have been...

I circumcised my inner circle.
Drew outside the lines.
And now nothing fits together
Anymore
I seek comfort
Waiting for the Mars rover
To map me a new world
another map
to color outside the lines
Again

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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