A poetry book filled with my heart's most painful laments.
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{ e p i g r a p h }
"The prizefight pits me against myself; the world is just collateral damage."
{ d e d i c a t i o n }
To myself, for not even I understand the emotions I pour out on these pages.
{ a c k n o w l e d g m e n t s }
God, for giving me a heart that feels too much. And everyone I know, for hurting me in ways that leave me empty and wanting. I know none of you really meant it. And that's okay, because that's what people do. They hurt others, and they themselves hurt, and there's nothing you can really do to stop that in a fallen world such as ours.
{ w a r n i n g }
» angst (not even joking, this is all angst) » bad poetry
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{ p r e f a c e }
I honestly have no idea why I'm posting this because a) my poetry is not very good and b) this poetry book specifically is for when the void in my heart hurts the most and I can't turn to anyone or anything to express it. This will not be updated on a regular basis. You probably don't even want that because it's not very good poetry. But even though it isn't good, it is from my heart. Maybe I could go so far to say that it is my heart. To whoever is reading this, don't worry about being gentle. It's already broken.
