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Keira Jun 2019
It's worse than
the knives,
the broken bones,
the bullet holes.

The pain
drives you insane,
eating you alive,
your brain.

The aching shows
you're close
to breaking -
whithered away,

The idea of anyone else
causes you
to push everyone away,
until it is only

The only thing worse
than a headache
is the ache
that started it -
the heartache.
Based on a poem I wrote two years ago.
Keira Jun 2019
I still remember
third grade.
When poetry was made
of rhymes...
Oh, the good times.

We were taught the sun
was a happy thing
and we would sit on a swing
smiling at its wonder,
unable to wait for summer.

And I know while
the sun's wonder
does indeed bring summer,
it also gives way to thunder
and rain.

Now that I'm older
poems have grown colder
and I know sorrows
are not conveyed
in rhymes.
Keira May 2019
There are no
no barriers
in our brains.

I would take
sticks and stones
over words
any day.
Keira May 2019
One minute
I believe I'm okay.

But then I
take a moment

and I think,
and the tears

come again.
So fast

they can't be
Keira May 2019
He's a nice boy with
a pretty face - I never
had a fighting chance.
Keira May 2019
I thought
I knew you
so well -

like the
of my hand.
But every time

I look
at my hand,
there's a new

a foreign
a scar

I never had
So the truth is,

I really
don't know
the back
of my hand

all that well.
So what does that say
for you?
Keira May 2019
I firmly believe
there's no
life after death,
so I can't
console myself
with the fantasy
that you're in
a better place.
But I hope,
for the first time
in my life,
that I'm wrong.
For your sake
and mine.
I miss you so much...
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