Maybe a heart doesn't really break that quickly,
Though such intense pain causes a tiny crack.
Yet it hurts, to such an extent that it breaks us.
But that pain isn't unavoidable,
Though we often make the same mistakes,
Causing the hurt to rise again.
Making the cracks deeper,
And wider.
We heal too,
Don't we?
But even healing is painful,
And hard.
How I wish that healing was easier,
Less painful.
Someday hope rises,
From deep within,
Where it had drowned,
In those unshed tears.
I've been called strong,
For trying to win this war, For wanting to fight back, All the unwanted thoughts.
You call this a game?
Well, just watch me play.
YOU ARE READING
The Ink Spilling From My Pen ✔
Poésie* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The ink that spilled out of my pen formed these poetry. * ** * * * * * * * * * * ** ** * * ** * * ** * ** ** *** ** * * ** * * ** A random poetry collection that spill...
