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Mar 2014
What is about to happen before you will be real. There are no mixed up words thought up to confuse the reader. It's time to confess and tell what I've had to hold inside. There's only the truth and the only ******* way to say it: I'm miserable. I've been miserable for far too long. A year ago today, I was changed forever and all I ever believed was taken from me. Love used to be this golden thing I could not wait to hold in my hands. But now, it's a poisonous cancer deep in the root of my heart that I can't touch for fear I'll be frozen forever. I am too much. I love too much. I care too much. I'm there too much. I pare too much. I am just too much. I could write a million songs about what has happened to me and none of them would fix my heart. None of them would help me heal. I once loved a boy, and truly loved, but he couldn't be bothered to keep me. He showed me what it was to really feel pain. Afterwards, it seemed like all I could do was lose people. All I had done was lose people. All I could do was be hurt. I was a punching bag
people got their kicks out of and when they were finished, they left, I stood there, more beaten than before. And it continued. A never ending cycle I could never end unless I end myself. How is it that something can make us so weak yet so strong? And how can we want it so much and despise it so?  I have forced myself to grow cold, emotionless. It is much easier than being emotionally invested in people and to just lose it all. For a while, it worked. Hell, I even didn't feel a thing for quite some time. Mostly anger. No sadness. But that grief, that suffocating sadness, has never truly left. It has wrung clearly within me and it is trying to escape through my throat in agonized screams of fear. Fear that I am finally breaking out and feeling the loss I have had to try and keep inside. A loss I could never find the words to end correctly.  Though I am trying to fight, I am weaker than before. So I will grow stronger, I will lose these disposable feelings like a camera with no film, and I will protect myself like I always have. I will be ok. Free.  And you can never hurt me again. I CANNOT DO THIS AGAIN I WILL NOT DO THIS AGAIN YOU WILL NOT BRING ME TO THE KNEES OF DEATH ONCE AGAIN I WON'T LET YOU I WON'T LET YOU I WON'T I WON'T PLEASE LEAVE ME BE LET ME LIVE CAN'T YOU SEE? CAN'T YOU SEE YOU'll ONLY MAKE IT WORSE? I HAVE TO BE FREE OF THIS CANCER, THIS DISEASE I HAVE TO BE FREE OF LOVE. I HAVE TO BE FREE. Please. I cannot do this anymore.
This is probably the realest poem I've ever written. Excuse the crazy. It happens.
Cynthia Malta
Written by
Cynthia Malta  United States
(United States)   
297
   Hailey
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