Death.
What happens afterwards?
If I knew, I'd have been gone
a long time ago instead of
letting my heart break repeatedly.
Instead of letting you hurt me.
Rather than letting the pain swallow me.

I always get my hopes up,
just to watch them fall.
I always lead with my heart,
Just to see you break it.
I let your words eat me away,
devouring my dignity.
I let you put me down,
drowning my self-esteem.

I feel like an old toy;
used, broken, set down,
and never picked back up.
I feel like a pest, unwanted
and displeasing.
I feel alone and invisible,
while standing in a crowd.

If I knew what came after death,
and it wasn't too bad,
then I would be gone.