There are worse things
than a broken heart
but to a romantic
to a poet soul
it's fuel, it's fodder
we keep scratching the scab off
and fingerpainting in the pool of our own blood

Our worlds
were too separate
for us to be together

chaos strikes by night
inevitably i'll fall apart
but tip-toe the subject
and pretend that i'm fine

if i want help i should ask for it
but i still wonder
do people not notice my pain?
or do they simply not care?

Night sits on my chest
Squeezes poems out of me
And grinds my poor soul

sometimes lips tell feelings
better than words do

Explosive rage,
Uncontrollable anger.

Directed at you,
Or just myself?

I hate you,
Always putting me down.

I hate myself,
Constantly craving your approval.

Your love,
Which I seldom receive.

I hate the part of me
That begs for forgiveness,

The part of me
That will always just be human.

Nothing more,
Nothing more.

Tears run down my face.
I cry, hidden in my room.

Am I just being
Melodramatic?

You scream at me,
I am never good enough.

I already know.
Can't you see that?

The bitter moment of silence,
Long enough to last a lifetime.

For days, I refuse to speak.
Until I learn to love the human part of me.

Once again.