Does happiness ever actually come?
Day to day I tell myself
that it's just around the corner,
but it seems these days like
I'm stuck in an infinite cul-de-sac.
A dead end that I've been stuck at since
the time we were no longer on this
road together.
I desperately need to know what
it's like to not wake up everyday
and question if I'm ever going to
get better. If there will be a time
in which I no longer need my poetry.
I no longer need a source of venting.
Venting that only spirals me down,
down a path that is impossible to climb
back up from. From a tortured soul, I
wish you could see that I'm not healing.
Healing only happens to those strong enough
to fix the pieces of themselves that
the world so effortlessly shattered.

Shattered. You left me broken, in
a million puzzle pieces that no one
can put back together. I'll
never get to be whole again. The image
of myself you left me tainted with is
a disaster. It appears as though
you took my edges,
and no one ever starts a puzzle from the inside.