To know that nothing was real
Is a sinking feeling like no other
To know that it all meant nothing
That the one thing that kept you standing
Was but a thin layer of ice
Waiting to shatter
Cracking more and more with each day
Excited for the day it would cave in
Letting you fall back to the darkness...
To know that every word
Every action
Every kiss
Every touch
To know that every promise made
Was nothing more than a lie...
To know that it all meant nothing
That the one thing that kept you whole
That kept you alive
Was nothing more than fiction
Lies told to create a brief moment of peace...
To know that you're worth nothing
Not the truth
Not happiness
Not even the time of day...
Well that is the knowledge that hurts the most.
That is the knowledge that arises the most questions
The most doubt.
That is the knowledge that tears you apart.
It rips out the tiny shreds of goodness that were left.
It leaves you empty and hateful and irreparable.
It leaves you dead.
YOU ARE READING
A Story Told, But Never Really Heard
PoésieThis is me. With no boundaries I reveal myself and hopefully save myself. I'm not sure whether I am writing this for you, or for me, but I hope it makes an impact none the less.
