To think, I gave you my heart.
All was well and good,
Then the dark consumed you.
You vanished.
Poof.
In your absence, I looked back on Us.
I was happy, you were happy.
All was well.
I let you inside, let you explore my mind.
I let you in on the things I've only told a few.
The demons inside me are dark and evil enough to make the most stoic of men cry, and I let you see them.
Then you returned, and tried to take me with you.
You failed.
You only managed to take a small piece of me into the darkness.
My heart.
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PoetryIs it better to release your demons? Allow them to expose themselves to the world? Or to bottle them up, and allow them to consume your mind and soul until all things end? This is a compilation of poems from when I was as in school, as well as ones...
