How do people die?
Is it all at once?
Or piece by piece?
Like glass surrounding your feet?
You pick up a piece or two.
Play with them in your hand.
Fix them together, like a puzzle.
Grab a third, more and more,
Until only a handful remains on the floor.
Add it to your pile of treasure.
Only to take your new creation,
And smash it with a hammer.
A million little pieces.
Too small to grab without getting cut.
Too many pieces to find them all.
Never completely whole again.
Eat, sleep, repeat.
A little more that never gets found each time.
No one noticing until it’s too late.
Until there’s nothing left.
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