I sit on rocks.
The discomfort feels real.
It's tangible.
I can feel the jagged edges piercing where I sit.
It feels real.
But my heart is broken.
Filled to the brim with axing sadness.
It rips at me, begging to be poured out.
And I try.
I try to empty it.
But it fills again and I don't know how to release it.
The discomfort ebbs as I sit. My heart feels empty.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
I sit on rocks.
The discomfort feels real.
It's tangible.
I can feel the jagged edges piercing where I sit.
It feels real.
But my heart is broken.
Filled to the brim with axing sadness.
It rips at me, begging to be poured out.
And I try.
I try to empty it.
But it fills again and I don't know how to release it.
The discomfort ebbs as I sit. My heart feels empty.