I pull out the puzzle.
Stop.
Dumping the many pieces to the ground.
Not right
I want to make something pretty.
Stop.
Even if just for once.
Not right.
One piece is ruined from being soggy.
Not right.
The people in the picture stare at me.
Stop.
I think a piece is missing.
Not right.
The picture is incomplete.
Stop.
It’s not real.
Not right.
Fingering my perfect puzzle socks.
Stop.
This puzzle isn’t perfect.
Not right.
And it should be.
Stop.
My hand smashes the horrible image.
Not right.
Before I realize, I stand.
Stop.
Clutching my hands up tight.
Not right.
And stomping away the images.
Stop.
The faces that haunt me every day.
Not right.
I wish the voices would stop ruining everything.
Stop.
I’m not right.
