Wednesday, March 20


 Its funny how,
after so long in the dark,
I can't tell if this is light.
I'm not really sure how to feel about it.
Not sure if I'm on the ground.
 I understand now,
why someone would want to rip out their own heart.
To keep it from bleeding...
Stinging like a gushing wound.
I wish I couldn't feel anything.
I wish I was like Ice,
That emotions couldn't hurt me so deeply.
I want it to stop.
Even if it means cutting away what I care about.
I don't want to feel like this anymore.
Its funny,
but I don't even feel like you'll remember me.
 I don't even think you'll care.

1 comment :

  1. love this one it's a good one
    i loved the way you wrote this
    poem it's very insightful


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