Why do I still hurt at this stage,
when I should be used to your ways?
Why does my heart still pound with rage
at all those things you say?
But then after all of this,
I always forgive and never forget,
and you, I always miss,
and for you I always fret.
I wonder to myself,
as the water burns my skin:
Since you only care for yourself,
why do I still let the feelings in?
What if I let it all go?
What if I never cared again?
I could just go with the flow,
when down your verbal knives rain.
I could refuse to let you bother me,
I could pretend that I'm okay.
And maybe then I'll be free
and friends we could stay.
But I don't want to not feel,
I don't want to be cold.
Yet these wounds will never heal,
if I continue to fold.
So I'll let it go
when you begin that onslaught,
and with you I won't row,
since that would be for nought.
أنت تقرأ
Poetry of Death
الشعر"You kept saying that you would never die, that you would live forever. But here you are, and here I am. Isn't it funny? I'm here to take your soul. Did I mention, I love my job? Oh right! I never told you. I'm the reaper who will reap your life." B...
