Sorrow.
I don't hate you.
I don't ever overthink what you did to me in the past,
I don't get lost in sorrow, trying to rearrange my heart.
The scratches left on it are no longer crucial to anyone,
being only a burden, I pretend they are all gone.
I pretend through my life that I am perfectly alright,
rotting inside from the amount of fears my soul creates on its own.
You made me this way, you created my code of living,
You turned on my human side again, made me believing,
as if I could trust again, open my darling soul once more,
that's what humans do, they get broken but they move on.
How does one move on if the heart was teared apart,
I could deal with the scratches, but it's enough.
Easier not to feel, than to be spending the nights in regret,
fighting for the memories that should have long ago be dead.
I don't hate you, it would be far to easy,
I despise you, for making me so busy,
busy trying to glue up what you broke.
If only I knew you were the one to make me choke.
