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Kiarah Miller Nov 2013
Heartache used to be beautiful,
Something you only felt when truly hurt,
Something that went away, making one
Feel new.
Heartache grows dreadful
When experienced weekly,
My heart trembles now
Only moments after I wake.
I wish only to cry, to sob
But no tears make it to the surface.
I have no release, I have no comfort.
I have only myself, and the occasional chat with death.
Death seems peaceful, enticing.
My heart begs me to take his hand,
My body aches to cease.
How sweet it would be, to give in,
To jump into the pits of hell,
With those whom understand.
Ah, but life is precious, is it not?
That is what they tell me,
That is what they try and make me believe.
I can believe nothing now.
Heartache used to be beautiful.

— The End —