Empty, more than hurting can describe this,
This precipice of black that echoes for infinity,
In here I search for any entity that is not gone,
The more I run, the less I find,
I found something that resides with me,
For abuse he reaps on me, I don't like him,
He himself is me but I am not him,
Preys on my weakness like a religion,
His attack of precision drowns my voice,
He says my choice to love doesn't matter,
He gets fatter and ties me to him,
He makes my limbs useless ridding of my search.
YOU ARE READING
Too Many Eccentricly Boring Poems, But Lovely Nonetheless
PoetryI'll be posting my poems I write and/or have written. Love some feedback. I can always do better and might redux any that people think could be better. I hope you enjoy the poems.
