Trying to fix me seemed impossible.

To fix something,

you need to know how it once was.

As I looked at all the pieces,

Pieces that were supposed to make up me,

They seemed like a puzzle

With no clear picture.

Those pieces of me,

Were not my pieces of me.

They were the pieces you took

And the pieces you changed,

To mold your perfect picture.

It was actually broken

When it seemed complete.

Deceiving everyone.

Including me.