hhansng

I keep it hundred in case you twist your blade
          	

hhansng

Be still your heart and do not resuscitate.
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hhansng

I cut you out because I don’t think that I’m sick
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hhansng

You will come to find moonlit nights disturbingly hollow.
          For when you call my name into them, nothing will answer back.
          Your heart will never stop aching for me,
          and your mind will cling to a fragile comfort, insisting what you did was brave

hhansng

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What doesn’t kill you…
          rips your innocence to shreds,
          shuts down your trust in anyone,
          makes you question why anyone would ever love you. Survival becomes automatic, a daily ritual of pain,
          waking up each morning to the same empty questions,
          trapped in shadows that laugh at how broken you’ve become.
          What doesn’t kill you steals pieces of yourself you’ll never get back…
          and leaves you alive only to know the joke was on you all along

hhansng

I give thee notice:
          my care is spent.
          Not in fury, nor in grief,
          but in a stillness colder than hate.
          I reclaim my heart from where I left it in thy keeping,
          for no soul should govern what it cannot guard.
          Think not this distance born of wound or fear.
          It is resolve.
          I choose myself where once I chose thee.
          Thou didst not break me in thy leaving but in mistaking me for one who begs remembrance.
          I stand sovereign in the silence thou didst presume would undo me.
          So go, unburdened by my regard;
          my will moves where thy flame cannot reach,
          and my indifference answers all.