I am but a puzzle,

A portrait scattered in a pile.

With 9999 bits of frustrations,

Only to find the last piece was missing.

The last piece,

Might it be my ego.

Because I never admitted,

That you were right.

The last piece,

Might it be my insecurity,

Because I never trusted.

That you were faithful.

The last piece,

Might it by my melancholy.

Because I never belonged,

That world you welcomed me to.

Then I found the last piece,

After 9999 bits of joy shared with you.

The portrait of me is recreated,

Now we become but another puzzle.