my life has been ripped to shreds
my heart has been ripped apart
instead of living
I want to be dead

I want to be rid
of all this guilt

you don't understand
how I feel this way
it's comprised
and you're the delay

I've been broken
and beaten
to the core

its been years
since
I kicked you out the door

yet you're still here
haunting me
I can't find a way to breathe
can you believe
all of the damage you've caused me
in this lifetime

must be a record
when I put it together
if it's not me it's her
I've been hurting too long
been put in the wrong
and it's just too much

can't believe you ripped me to shreds
into tiny pieces
I let you lead me on
all along
so my mistake
wouldn't have it any other way
I'm already gone

shreds
ripped into pieces
none of me is decent
that's left

shreds

Separation shall not define
Beats getting weak in my heart
Instead
Be lull but me mine
Darling—stay bleak in my heart

Your lament mourned in storms
Some cries cling deep in my heart
It is who
Crossed leagues to die in my arms
Who has born to weep in my heart

My heart beats poetries. Do you hear it?

I was once beaten
hard
by a large man
with red fire eyes
and froth on his lips.
Don’t worry, baby.
I gave as good
as I got.
That day, I learned
to survive.

-Ron Gavalik

They say I am a third world soldier.
They say I should be a proud warrior,
I am the protector of the mass, guardian of freedom and order
My job is from the centre to the border.
But, all I do is **** and die for the master.

I feel like a hunter's dog,
Only, the hunter is my government.
I ****, ****, ****, I die.
In the name of the law, in the name of freedom and order,
I draw blood.
I draw red blood, dead blood, innocent and guilty blood.

Master gives me bones of the dead, they call them medals.
Master floats on the river of blood.
Oh! I am a warrior, I am a dog.

Fervent warriors come upon a field,
A trickle of men storming the grassy abyss,
prepared with shields upon their hearts
and weapons ready at the finger tips.
Their hearts oscillating to the war cries
and to the sounding drummer's march.
A prevalent threat casting shadows overhead;
Awaiting the freedom bell and the open air,
the men charge with their pens cocked
and their ink basins filled to the brim.

You beat within me
but whenever
you beat that much
I die pretty much