what is there to know?

"that's life", they say "that's how it is"
people come and go, you just have to keep on going
but every person that comes inside me leaves with a piece of my flesh
and i'm weary
i don't want to be made of pieces anymore
of memories
of someone who came and left
i don't want to look inside myself; i'm afraid to find they haven't left anything behind
only scraps of what i used to be