The Priory Lit. Mag

It starts with Conair bullets, then radio raids
Declare war on my morning world.
Most come back alive
Others die in combat
I find the MIAs and keep them to myself.
They find refuge in my heart-
They try to fix it up.
Now make it homey, add a carpet
Lamps- feminine touches, all in vain
Only one hand can sew it back together.
I'm picking up the pieces
At least you could tape them back together
Instead you create more cracks
I'm a set, don't buy me separately
I belong with a saucer.