The puzzle piece

In a world of jigsaws I live in,
as one of the pieces I cannot fit in,
thus wonder if this piece a mistake it had been,
a part of life's puzzle that should never be seen.

As a piece with rigged edges of seven,
with the color of a pearl from heaven,
I only wished to be an edge with five,
and the matching color of green's life.

And so painfully I severe two edges,
in hopes I fit between the rounded ledges,
as well as holding my breath unseen,
so that my face would finally turn green.

Though I can finally fit in between like a vein,
my sides and stumps are always in pain,
and I could only be green for a while,
otherwise I would lose my breathless smile.

Hence I could only masquerade,
in this world full of charade,
knowing deep inside I have no place,
yet I could only pretend with hidden disgrace.

Knowing I am not part of this base,
along with the smile on my teary face.

But I still need to deceive,
Upon these false beliefs,
so thus I can still live.