The split of a person, without being whole anymore,
Sometimes it feels like it should've had more gore,
Felt like I wanted to die but that would be against what i swore,
Would've meant I'd be done for,
Not like a person would notice me they'd just ignore,
Try to move on but only thing in front of me is a slammed door,
Open it, but that again breaks what I swore,
To myself, that very night, that ugly promise, one I swore.
Feels like my minds gone to war,
Break it or keep it, either or.
Guess its an out come I can explore,
Just hope it holds no gore,
This sympathy is going to kill me or save me, I don't care which anymore.
But I do know, for certain, he is the one who I will forever adore,
This game is getting old though, time to settle the score,
Whether I lose or win, it'll be my fault, I can't feel bad for myself anymore.
Will do anything for love but it makes me feel like a wh#re,
Hate this feeling, I don't want to be here anymore.
Guess this isn't goodbye, score came back and I need to keep what I swore.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a mended artist.
شِعرthis will be a part two to my other set of poems. please read them but they are not needed to understand these. These will be much sadder than my original ones usually.
