Broken Poetry

Broken I've Become

With bloody wrists I hold no soul, my mind is lost and buried under years worth of sediment and rock, my body is broken, shaky to the touch and my heart is no more for it has fallen apart. Purging years worth of pain and agony from under my flesh, I have learned that I am merely a vessel for the hatred that surrounds my very existence. My intake of said "magical drugs" has yet to make me smile like they said it would, maybe it's a broken spell, or maybe I'm too lost to be found by some witches magic. Dancing with broken limbs, walking with no legs, I've found a way to move onward by taking a step back from the world and hiding behind the walls that protect me from falling in love with whomever dares to speak. Gurgling blood in which I bathe, I choke and drown in the tears I cry. Behind locked doors lays my body, cold and dead for the warmth of an embrace was foreign to my senses. A tongue twisting story I tell to those who wish to listen, never fails to bring tears to their eyes and empty promises of help that may never come for I will not let it, this brokenness is what I've become.