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Emmalee Feb 2014
I've become used to
The feeling of loneliness.
And I'm not quite sure
I mind it.

I've been beaten,
Abused,
Lied to and confused,
But I've grown to like it.

It reminds me that
Love cannot be true.
The feeling is very
Overrated.

It taught me
Not to believe in fairy tales.
Otherwise I'll be living
As love's experiment.
Emmalee Feb 2014
Forgive me.
I made my dream real.
The lost soul;
it escaped my body.
It looked upon the cries,
it looked upon the sadness.
But when my soul wasn't lost,
why was there no one there?
Regret.
Is this what they feel?
When I see my body,
crying faces looking upon it,
am I looking at people who cared?
If this to be right,
then I refuse this choice.
I know it to be
A lie.
I can't believe in these lies.
Pity for themselves,
this is what these faces are in search of.
Not for me,
my wounds,
my lost soul.
It is all for the title
of saying that they had once loved
a person who has left their life.
Emmalee Feb 2014
The broken flower;
it lies.
It is crying for oxygen,
water,
just one chance to regain it's beauty.
Although it cries,
the world around it sits
and watches it fall.
It waits for the rain.
It waits for the sun.
But all that broken flower is given...
Night and snow.
Occurrences that split those petals,
into millions,
like a crushed heart,
are all that that flower has to rely on.
It hopes that the ice would melt,
transform into water.
But happiness for that flower
is lost at this point.
And as it breaks
it falls
straight to the ground,
wishing that the seasons could disappear,
and summer would forever take it's path.
Impossible.
But that's what makes it so beautiful to watch.
The suffering has ended for that
broken flower.
Death is life's only true happiness.

— The End —