You me
We were not
Ment to be. The way
you pull at my strings,
Takes me down with every
touch. Why even when i hate you,
Do you make me smile, Something is
Wrong with my heart. My broken,
Stolen, painfilled, sickened
heart. I lose track of
pain, for how
my heart
feels.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 12:10 PM UTC
You me
We were not
Ment to be. The way
you pull at my strings,
Takes me down with every
touch. Why even when i hate you,
Do you make me smile, Something is
Wrong with my heart. My broken,
Stolen, painfilled, sickened
heart. I lose track of
pain, for how
my heart
feels.
Request permission to use this poem