Three small chunks of my soul
Ripped right out of my chest
          Every weekend

       The same **** thing
The hugs, tears and kisses goodbye
               With them
The screaming, mistrust and hateful words
               With him

The pain seems neverending
And never getting any better
       All the bridges burned
   Without
          a single
                look
                      back­

But regret can build and build
When you realize some bridges
             Can't be rebuilt

And yet
         I can't regret him
Or the pain he dealt to me
    Cause he helped to create
Those three small pieces of my soul

          And they may be small
      But put together
   They create my life as a whole

    Every Weekend
The same **** thing
        And it hurts
   Finally having that feeling
Like you're actually whole
         Then all three pieces
             Get
            RIPPED
       Right out of my soul


And until next weekend
**I cannot feel whole

Seek not to criticize and refute, but to learn and understand.

your art shook my foundations
disturbed my complacency

now I understand
why you are so needed

plain as you are
your voice came to me

and then I realised
it was I who was speaking

You always hear it, of the Cut.
The one that goes too deep.
The one that makes the crimson flow strong, and the pulse weak.
The one that breaks a sibling's heart, and causes tears to fall from a parent's eye.
The one that makes the whole world stop.
The Cut is irreversible. The Cut is final.
And things shouldn't be final.
That's the whole point of living, isn't it?
To write your own destiny, to make things better than they once were.
A moment's sadness may not compare to the lifetime of joy that could be on the horizon.
Yet, it's hard to see when the fog is thick and the sky is bleak.
Just remember the sun is there, waiting for you to feel it.