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inked solace Dec 2020
I’m surrounded by more people than ever,
So why am I so alone?
For all of these relationships are ripping apart,
Every precious friendship I’ve sewn.
when you know you're not doing what's best for yourself, but you can't stop making it worse
inked solace Dec 2020
i have no self control.

i cry when there's no reason
i yell when there's no cause
i eat without any discipline
i would gladly dive into Death's jaws

maybe it's because i'm losing myself,
or maybe it's because i'm losing him
for since i learned he was dying
it's been easier to sink rather than swim
maybe you haven't lost a loved one,
but even the leaving of a friend
can leave a person this broken
with no more love left to spend
inked solace Dec 2020
What do words mean anymore
When they’re used for such shallow things
For there are no words that can heal the wounds
That losing a father brings

“I love you” is a meaningless, worthless phrase
And “have faith” means about the same
Some people don’t understand
That these words simply add fuel to the flame.
sometimes a comfort can add onto the pain
inked solace Dec 2020
Have you ever heard a story
That didn’t end in ‘happily ever after’?
For the greatest story I’ve ever known
Wasn’t filled with happiness and laughter.

Stories like cinderella and sleeping beauty
And princess and the frog, I won’t bother
For, by far, the greatest story of them all
Is of a girl and her sick father
and that story is of my father and I
inked solace Dec 2020
all the time that we've spent,
all the things we didn't do

all the love that we showed,
all the hate that we showed too

all the shades of the sky we've seen,
every tint and every hue

all the laughter and all the joy,
all the struggles we suffered through

all these memories locked away
because now i'm losing you
sometimes the best memories are the most painful to reminisce on
inked solace Dec 2020
Some wounds have this peculiarity:
They may be hidden, but they never fully close.
Always painful, always ready to bleed when touched,
Delicate as a withering rose.

They remain fresh and open in the heart,
with every pulse and breath, pulling apart.

As you lay in your hospital bed,
hurting more than you can bare,
I'm sorry for all the times I gave up on you,
For all the times I wasn't there.
inspired by Alexander Dumas's "Count of Monte Cristo"

— The End —