Torn Pieces

Why when I am about finish my masterpiece
By patiently stitching back a torn portrait
One piece dear to me decides to detach?

Is this imperfect masterpiece worthwhile?
Should I throw it away and let it decompose?
Maybe then I can rework on my self-portrait?

Or maybe my energy is just better utilised
In signing songs to travel across the oceans –
Only sung to open the eyelids of free souls?

Maybe there the torn piece might value me?
Maybe then I will reunite with them again?
Yet, I wish the masterpiece finishes now.

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The First

If I articulated whispers of our constellation,
You would overhear hatred amongst peace,
Banners falsely labelled to accuse your soul,
I, for one, have rejected all notions of decay,
I did touch your delicate being – a human,
You might be their first discarded wreckage,
Still, in disbelief, I believe in your innocence,
In our preserved Universe’s constellation,
Apparently, you are a human amongst aliens,
And if that is so, then I, for now until forever,
Shall be crowned as the second human,
Do stand tall against all dark matters,
And never sway, my first, never change.