I feel my breath cutting short,
I feel my chest getting heavy,
I got a feeling that this time he's got nothing to do with it, has he?
My heart bleeds
but nobody tugged on it this time,
I wish I could believe mom when she says that I'm doing "completely fine".
And I want to cry but my eyes didn't pay the water bill.
Nobody ever actually loved my soul, and I'm starting to think none ever will,
'cause I hide myself like I'm some kind of horrendous beast:
the world shall not see me the way I do, because they'd be disturbed to say the very least.
We all heal just to fall into the same dark place again
and this hole I have inside is getting progressively harder to explain.
They say you can always tell when for someone shit gets unbearable,
but can you actually do that when the person who always smiles is actually feeling terrible?
I want to feel again.
I want to remember what I did the day before,
but my mind lacks of space 'cause my past is the only thing it can store.
YOU ARE READING
Trust my words.
PoetryA poetry collection of random poetries I wrote. Nothing special, just some deep stuff from a burning poet heart, I hope you enjoy. I think most of them are going to be love letters or over-dramatic sh*t I write when I'm down.
