poem 31

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Hot tears sting my pale skin.

They run down my cheeks and drip onto the screen.

I once felt joy looking upon this picture.

Now all I feel is emptiness.

My hands no longer sweat with nervous glee.

My eyes no longer stare analyzing all I see.

My mouth no longer says the words I long to hear.

My smiles are false, they are no more real then your words of love.

My mind is not my own to control. It now belongs to sorrow.
For you broke me.

Is a heartless and soulless man really a man at all?

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