In your palm, you hold my life,
My hopes, my fears, my dreams.
You close them in your iron fist,
So no one hears my screams.
Crushed and broken, in your hand,
My heart, my soul, my tears.
Your arms are open, to the wind,
As you let go of three years.
Scattered peices, everywhere,
I search the world to find,
The reminants of my shattered life,
To leave you far behind.
Certain peices, not picked up,
Those shards that still contain,
A memory, thought, or love for you.
In the dirt, they will remain.
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