She doesn't care, she doesn't care, she doesn't care.
The words lash across the raw red mess of a sore that is my heart
They fester and wound and scab and scar
Eyes closed in pain, fists clenched in agony, mouth open aghast in horror
She doesn't care, she doesn't care, she doesn't care.
The words burn into my vulnerable melting flesh
They tattoo across my eyelids, preventing sleep or thought
She doesn't care she doesn't care she doesn't care.
The words are my very existence, they define me, they control me, a constant roaring in my ears that does not but crescendo
She doesn't care, she doesn't care, she doesn't care
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Sometimes, we are completely powerless.
I can not change the flow of a stream.
I can not change life to a sweet deep dream.
I can not move mountains, even with my best.
I can not live in darkness but speak of light.
I can not stand in fire and not burn.
I can not split seas while they chop and churn.
I can not convince you that I am right.
All of these things, I simply can not do.
But I can choose to not give up on you.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
A cold pair of scissors right next to me
A cold pair of scissors against my skin
A pair of scissors, how cold could they be?
A cold pair of scissors against my chin
A cold pair of scissors brush down my neck
A cold pair of scissors as sharp as swords
Two cold, hard, and sharp lines that intersect
And scrape and grind to make dissonant chords
A cold pair of scissors could end my life
A cold pair of scissors could end my stress
I have no children and I have no wife
Ending my life might just be for the best
I have nothing to live for since she left
I will die; from scissors or a noose I heft
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
Heart Break
Love doth take the form of it’s creator;
For as man is complex, it is as well.
Undulating like a wave to a swell,
Receding to a small trickle later.
Oh! The heart! To misery it caters.
A fickle flaming; My personal hell.
To what purpose could this hope to avail?
If this be love, then call me love-hater.
Of love, I have none but for myself only.
For thine self is what thy own, truthfully.
Mine soul being my very own vessel.
Illuminating to not be lonely,
While embracing this one life youthfully,
With self and ego I constantly wrestle.
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC