Fragments of myself
Dangle in the abyss
Jingling like chimes
Creating a symphony
Of what was once me
The past tense version
Of what I have become
Each memory tinkling
The one beside it
Making it hard
To decipher one
From the other
And yet the sound
Of it altogether
Is something
More beautiful
Than poetry
I sit here
Not as a fragment
But as an orchestrated
Culmination
Of everything
That I am