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Cynthia Cliff Nov 2013
Every morning is the same question:
"Why do I wake up?"
And every time, it's harder to answer.

Every day I march to war
to fight the demons that blur my world,
but the only weapon I have is a fake smile.

Every afternoon I try to forget that day:
the cold tiled floor cradling me
as I kissed a bottle of pills.

Every evening I think of my parent's relief
of packing my things and
never spending another penny on a rotten child

Every heart beat that runs in my thing throat
is nothing but a reminder of worthlessness.

Every tear is a scream -
it reverberates in an aching head.

Every minute, I ask myself questions
I don't know that answer to.

Why do I try anymore?
Cynthia Cliff Nov 2013
What a dark time it's been, no dreams or desires to chase after.
This hollowness has been long and hard, but
I don't feel it anymore when I'm with you.
You make me forget the lost hours,
the blank darkness,
the cold silence.
I no longer wake because I must,
but merely because I must see you.

You may never know that
Your laugh makes me smile
Your smile keeps me warm
Your touch drives me crazy
Your eyes hold me tight
Your arms house me.
You may never know;
that's okay -
I'm the quiet type
Cynthia Cliff Nov 2013
Every soft stroke of
Your fingers on my pale skin
Makes my heart crazy
Cynthia Cliff Nov 2013
So long, I've sung a solo so lonely --
An art already ailing of any amour --
Verses varying vibes of vague luridness --
Every note echoes a screech; erases all reason.

My mortality is no longer mine:
Enemies forever ensconce in every expectation of .

— The End —