The traces of your touch
Still linger on my skin
The shadows of your memory
Still bombard my thoughts
An infinite loop
Of bittersweet nightmares

Overwhelming
But sickly satisfying
The desire to fight
Turns to plea’s of death
Attempting to end it all
By drifting into eternal slumber

But I always wake
From my desolate dreams
To a living terror
That day by day
Rips me apart

I need you here
Im going insane
So I hold on
To my agonizing hope,
My most precious pain

I want to age
I will not type
'how to look youthful' on google
or buy anti-aging cream to cover my wrinkle

I will wake up everyday
looking at the mirror,
touching my wrinkle,
thanking my future self;
'you have been through a long journey,
thank you for choosing to survive
and face the same hell everyday.'

I will show the world
how proud I am of my wrinkle
as it is my
monuments of survival.

maybe
when you left
those scars
on my heart
i became
a beautiful poet.

I write what I see,
Because I am blind.
I write what I hear,
But I am deaf.
I write what I feel,
But paralyzed.
I write what I smell,
In my burnt nose.
I write what I taste,
The only sense left,
And thank the day,
Because it can be worse.

why must you compare pain
someone can drown in an ocean
while someone can drown in a pond
the point is,
they both drowned