What Killed The Dinosaurs/Made of Tougher Stuff

I am made of broken pieces-butter knives and poetry.
I am made of all that’s happened and of all that’s yet to be
And if I am my father’s daughter, then could I be my mother’s son?
And what if all of that is over and what is next has not begun?
Because I am made of golden rings and I am made of cheese
Because I am made of floral perfume and a voice that whispers, “please,”
“Please come save me from this hole, please come save me from myself,
Please come save me from the photographs sitting dusty on a shelf”
“Please come save the little girl who lives in your bedroom mirror”
“Please come save me from the shattered shards of things you once held dear.”
I listen to the voice and callously I turn aside.
I know there’s nothing left to do but leave her in the mirror to die
Because I am made of broken pieces and I am made of sand
Because I am made of all that’s left and I do what I can.
I know that it was a meteor that killed the dinosaurs
I know it would take less to kill me, but I still look towards the stars.
And if I could not be my father’s daughter then how could I be my mother’s son?
And sometimes things are ending and you watch the rising sun.