I am picking up the pieces. I bet you haven't picked up a single piece but I've already picked up all of my pieces. In fact, last weekend, I picked up about five or six pieces, and two of them I had at once. I'm facing myself and walking forward without looking behind myself to face you. I'm moving ahead, not looking back, picking up pieces, and hitting the big time. I'm saying my piece. I've kept my pieces hidden behind me, but I won't look back because love don't live there anymore and I don't have a home. I'm holding onto pieces, trying to look back to where I came from. I asked you no questions but you told me lies anyway, and so I'm looking forward. I'm moving ahead with all of my pieces looking behind me. I'm moving onwards and upwards, looking back at my pieces, which are all picked up (as I said). No... my pieces are moving on without me! My pieces have picked themselves up and have moved on. I'm picking my pieces cautiously. I don't need to pick up my pieces because I never dropped my pieces in the first place. Those pieces were red herrings, placed there to lead you to believe that perhaps you should drop all of your pieces in order to be more like me. My pieces are all tucked away and my tears are used up and you are all behind me, piecing together what lies ahead. You stole my pieces before I had time to pick them up, but I'm not looking back... because I can't let you see the tears in my eyes. You have broken my heart and I can't pick up the pieces and so I can't move on. My heart is in pieces. You put your pieces all over my memory. You moved inside my heart and looked up at me from where you were loving me. You ate my heart but saved a piece that you left at my doorstep as if to say, "It's not good enough to finish. I am full." You overheard pieces of conversation inside my heart and so now I need to put you behind me. Did it ever occur to you that I only drop the pieces that I wish to leave behind?