poetry for the poetic: 5

XLVII

they told me that i took out something good from my broken heart
and they called it 'words'
they said i bleed words and they are beautiful
but how ugly it was to name beautiful my pain
it was never beautiful
god, now i realized out of all these lies that my heart only bleed red
it was the same as someone who didn't wrote about it
the pain echoed and it fucking destroyed me
nothing was ever beautiful inside me it was just broken pieces and broken promises and life lies
i lost my light.