I see metaphors from broken hearts
and wish my heart would break into
something beautiful.
I spend my time making love to pen and paper
in hopes of producing
something acceptable.
I wait at my desk for hours,
crying and trying
to purge something useful out of me.
But no matter how hard I try,
no matter how much my fingers bleed
and my heart aches
I will never be a Poe, Hemingway or Dickinson.
I'm just a fragile little girl wearing her heart not on her sleeve but on paper.
Hoping,
praying,
that will be enough.

They're only words, and they shouldn't hurt me as they do.
But I can't help it.
They rip through the deepest parts of my soul.
Allowing unbearable pain to course through me.
Pain that never seems to end.

How do we live when we know one day, we will no more?
How can we care for someone who may not feel the same?
How could a situation so simple stir within us for the entirety of our lives?
How can such a small decision affect our well-being?
Although these problems are complicated, the answer itself  is simple: we are human, It's how we are programmed.

I watch silently as you destroy yourself
You are only a shell of who you once were.
I reach out to you in a useless attempt to help
You push me away
I have become further from you than I ever imagined
You don't seem to notice
I sit through many sleepless night worrying  I won't see you tomorrow
You seem to think no one cares for you
I understand now that there is nothing I can do
You must remember
I am always here for
you

I've been praying for a sign, something to let me know
That you are here for me, and there's no reason I should go.
But everyday is the same, I get no results
I have no feelings to claim, and I've barely a pulse.
I struggle through the days, and I cry through the nights,
hoping it's only a phase, and one day i'll be right.
But so far I've been wrong, nothing has changed.
I've waited so long, and my survival is challenged.

It's hard to think, I'm on the brink of Nonexistence.
I could jump from the earth in just an instant
But would you miss me?
Would you care that I'm gone?
If not what's the point in "So long"
Why should I live with the pain, and suffering you bring?
I wish you'd back off and let me do my own thing.
But I'm tough,
I'm strong enough to live.
All I need's a little luck
But I won't get it,
I won't find it from you.
For all I know you probably hate me too.
I've become irrelevant in my own home, and all the places I once belonged.
But it doesn't matter.
In a few more years  I'll be long gone.

I am hollow and empty, with only good intentions.
Surrounded by the darkness of pain I won't mention.
With no will to go on, my sadness flares
I sit alone and withdrawn from those who once cared.
I stumble blindly through life with no one to guide me