Words From Past Always Follow

I Don't Write

I hate my family
I love my enemy
Blood is blood
Thee irony in vanity

I will not write my feelings
For my eyes show my soul
Why take me for granted
Am I not one of many

I will not write my love
For such is half hearted
What need I to put into words
What was known so well

Here I am
A doll once more
Sitting on the shelf
Unneeded again

I opened up
Told my soul story
And here is were I be
Once more alone

What good is it
To put my feelings to words
Even the blind could see
Just what I felt

I am but a doll of corse
Just waiting for death to collect
Today the funeral is for my dieing heart
Bleeding and cast aside

I will bare my soul
In something as meaningless
As written words
That none may even see

Did I love
Its sad I still do
An old mask is being warned this day
As tears threaten me

I am a doll
How ever did I forget
My affections be not normal
For I don't see love as sex

I am a doll
Sitting on a shelf once more
I do not pursue people
For this is the outcome

I will not write my feelings
For no good words come to mind
Second rated at best
To describe my bleeding heart

I do still love
I know not what I did wrong
I was close to happiness
Now I am close to empty

Another one gone
Abandoned again
I was a fool
But we choose our loves not

I want to scream
But no sorry pass my lips
I already know the words would be meaningless
And the insult is they apologized

I been told I was rare
For I love unconditionally
But that means I fall hard
And fall I did

My friend Death
I not understand
Not at all
Do I understand

Live on I will
Empty as I may feel
I don't date
This is why

I changed them
I know that well
But my job is done
Time to move on

People die every day
So too do hearts
Feelings are no different
The cold is there all the same

Why am I misunderstood
Spirits tell me
Why do I even ask
I know well I will not ever get an answer

I can scream
I can curse
I can shout
It's all pointless in the end

It's why I won't write
My soul is already open
I shouldn't need to
Yet this is here

I don't cut
I'm not alcoholic
I don't trust cancer sticks
I don't want the false reality of drugs

I'm crying
And I don't know why
I've only ever been an object
Not even a cherished one at that

I've seen death
In both senses
And I cried no tears then
Yet somehow I am now empty

I love my enemy
I hate my family
Blood is blood
Thee irony in vanity

This I live by
That fine line
I don't write
Not this

For there is nothing to describe
No words are good enough
Yet this is here
And I am crying like the human I was born as

~by ToBeDeath
Admittedly this is my worst work
For that I apologize
If you made to the end, I'm surprised.