I walked out of a beautiful picture,
disturbing the peace of a puzzle.
Beautiful pieces turned into mountains and a hut,
but I always wanted to see the real world.
I’m a rain-kissed pebble now,
or at least I want to be one.
I’ve breathed the changing colours of the sky.
Should I worry that I’m fading, dissolving?
This real world too seems to be missing a few pieces,
but no one seems to care.
No one came back looking for me,
but missing pieces of life have a way of finding a story of their own.