Missing Piece Poem by Cloe C

I am a lost puzzle piece-
with a dab of every color in the picture,
so I can be loved in many places
and not question my presence.

Even though I am lost,
I am still found in most things.
Like in music, movies, meals, mountains.
Painting my own way to be found.

And crown the seeker for seeing
the subtle signs I traced.
To be picked up and placed
into the empty hole in a colorful puzzle.

So do not judge me
for mistaking a placement as perfect-
when it's better than being lost.
I mistook the wrong hue of blue.

One that looked like clear blue skies
felt like deep bleeding blue bruises.
The parts that seemed to fit
now suddenly overlapped.

So do not judge me
for forging a monster into a mosaic-
both sharp edges can be beautiful but
mine were supposedly scarier than monsters.

I was told I was too sharp and stabby,
when I was just misshapen and loppy.
I was built with some soft spots that cave in
and some that I can't keep from overflowing.

So I let myself be removed rather than cut
because I knew that I needed every part of me.
And suddenly every piece I was told
to file fit perfectly in another gap.

And blue was as endless as an ocean
and as pure as fresh mountain water.
The pieces can fit perfectly like a lullaby,
that's why so many parts of me can fit.

I was painted to find my missing puzzle
Since no piece is ever truly lost-
it's just lost in the moment of the craft-
dancing into the threads in the carpet.