Poems of a broken artist

I can Breath Again.

I am what's wrong. 

I am what's wrong with me. 

And I know, 

That sounds like I'm hating on myself. 

But truly, 

I am mad at it. 

I am mad at what's wrong with me. 

And what's wrong is me. 

That voice in my mind;

putting me down, 

shutting me out, 

making me questions others, 

The one that makes me unable to trust. 

And that voice is very familiar to you, isn't it? 

When you came along so did that voice. 

At first sweet and kind. 

Goofy and wonderful. 

Then..

Hateful. 

Horrible. 

Monstrous. 

The voice of you that I myself created to make sure, 

even though you already left, 

That I would never Lose you. 

And now. 

I'm burning the Memory's, 

Shooting the Voices down, 

Stabbing the last image of your smile, 

And opening to someone new, 

Someone I can trust. 

And as Your voice tells me he'll hurt me too, 

I ignore it. 

Play my music till I don't hear it, 

And

Think of him until I can't see you anymore. 

And finally... I am able to Breath.