Sometimes,
When I'm trying,
To pick up,
All the broken pieces,
Of my heart,
I feel like,
They're shards of glass,
Making my fingers bleed,
The harder I try,
To move on,
And heal.
Sometimes,
I feel like,
The pieces,
Are shreds of paper,
And that,
I'll be done,
Before long,
Until I get a papercut,
I wasn't expecting,
And I end up,
Having to start,
All over,
From square one.
Sometimes,
I feel as though,
My heart,
Is simply gone,
Like you took,
All the pieces,
And threw them away,
Like you did,
With my love,
And I feel like,
I'm growing colder,
And colder still,
Without you.
Sometimes,
I don't feel,
Like everything,
Is wrong,
And terrible,
I feel like,
I'm okay,
Like everything,
Is okay,
Until,
I cut my hand,
On the shattered glass,
Once again,
And I remember,
I'm not fine,
Nothing is fine,
Nothing is okay,
Nothing is alright.
