"eternial" poems
Ive given everything up to make everyone happy hoping i would eventually be happy but it seems as though god likes ******* with me. the woman i love moved while i was at work. i dont know if she even loves me like she says she does. i havent wanted anyone else but her. i tried to get her off my mind but i cant. i feel it in my heart that shes my soul mate, my better half, my everything but no matter what i do i just mess everything up and make her hate me more. maybe gods plan for me was eternal damnnation and eternial lonelyness. maybe his plan was for me **** my self. i dont want anyone but her i never truely clicked with anyone but her. hell if i had to sacrifice my own life for her id do it in the bling of an eye or better yet faster than sound or light. i would do anything for her no matter the cost. but god has a sick twisted mind and every time im finally happy it gets ripped away from me. i have just about had enough of this ****** torture i want to just say ***** it and end it once and for all.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
Darkness is all she sees
When she looks at you
Even when she looks at me
The abyss of her sorrows
Goes down for days
Each day she borrows
Because it has never been the same
There are taunting whispers
Turning to screams
She lays awake crying
Afride of her dreams
The abyss in her heart
A hole to huge to fill
The abyss in her soul
It will never heal
She wonders each morning
How she will feel
If today's not a good day
She wonders how she'll deal
She has been falling for a while now
But no one has noticed
She has been hiding for a while now
But no one has found out
Her abyss is her prison
Her skin her cell
She's on eternial lockdown
Trying to breakout
Her efforts are pointless
Her attemps she has failed
She wants to stop trying
But the pain she can't bare
She is begging for help
But no one is listening
She is living this hell
But they dont see her missing
They don't notice
The look in her eyes
But I, I notice
Every single time
My abyss is my prison
My skin is my cell
Is it of my own making
I can't even tell
My wrist they hold scars
My heart is all bandaged
My soul tells the stories
My mouth can't manage
By; Breannah Cross
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC