·˚ ༘ ➳〔I fight with myself〕 ࿐ ࿔:🖇
The time I thought I was in love and the time I really was
Were not that different, they both made me sleep poorly, I suppose.
Both made me question myself and cry out to the night,
Not knowing anymore how to distinguish what's wrong from what's right.
Both made me speak loud to unforgivingly tall brick walls,
Leaving unanswered so many of my frightened calls.
Both made me discover the hidden genius of my hands,
And how I could twist words to obey my trembling commands.
And, I guess, both heartbreaks felt so real to me;
I can't say why I gave up searching for explanations, I just let it be,
I stepped away from myself and watched my body cower,
Pressed down by the feeling of uselessness and the lack of emotional power.
I watched myself coldly, disgusted by the trembling mess that I was
Just because I loved or tried to, give my life to that idiotic cause.
I'm weak, choosing with my heart and not my brain,
Getting in return a faint feeling of numbness after all the pain,
I'm addicted to feeling guilty over and over again,
Letting my heart be the Abel to my brain's Cain.
CITEȘTI
Of sweet and sour - poetry book
Poetry...and maybe sometimes words and paper are enough to heal a wounded heart
