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Even with my eyes closed
I can still see the pain in my own eyes
My mind gives out,
A reflection of me I can not dismiss
Brittle it was, shards it became
Dreams no longer offer the embrace as before
I wish things were different
Between you and me
But all of these feelings,
That's all they'll ever be.
Loving someone so deeply knowing you can never have them is a different kind of pain.
Empathy means to understand one another without a word 

Empathy means to real all the emotions in eyes of others 

Empathy means to feel the sorrow and joy of life 

Empathy means to feel all the pain of others 

Empathy means to be happy in others happiness 

Like when we saw a kids happiness 

Automatically that brings happiness in our lips 

That's only the feeling 

Which we can call empathy 

That's hard to be describe in words 

Its an beautiful and deepest emotions
What if you decided to stay?
What if you never walked away?
What if I said hello to you?
What if you said hello too?

What if we could be together?
What if we could last forever?
What if I was okay?
What if I knew what to say?

What if we never parted ways?
What if we stopped with the okays?
What if life was different and good?
What if I could've understood?

All of these things in my mind,
Are getting harder to find.
When things like these are stuck in my head,
Like the question what if I was dead.
All of us have our what if questions to live with.
our fingers lace
in a vast depressing attempt to keep safe from yourself
i feel responsibility in the slits that take form in your psyche
i should learn how to stop
learn how to breathe
learn how to not
fantastic uncertainty for days unknown
does not equate misery by my shattering ribcage
please think of me again
remember my name and let me save you next time
its a Touchy Subject
I thought it was supposed to get better
but instead

it just keeps getting worse
mmmm life kinda ***** right now
you made me love you,
and you left.

you made me trust you,
and you left.

you made me promise things i never thought i would,
and you left.

you made me,
and you left.
i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it
People have come and gone
they hello and goodbye on
stayed a day, a month or years
there's just too much to miss.

Does everyone come to leave?
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