Piece-Keepers My rose-colored glasses have finally broke and has been crushed beneath Life's heavy boot. As time creeps on, I find my life is not my own. In fact, every-one owns a piece of me. I don't think there's one iota remaining. If there is, it's so infinitesimal to find. Awake or asleep, there is no piece. But I keep my dark thoughts to myself. I don't want to anger or hurt my piece-keepers. No mater how much they hurt me. Donatello