and then I finally understand
what it is like
to beat yourself up
over a guy.
they say it's useless
they tell me "give up"
but there are certain things I can't ignore
no fuel is ever enough-
to run this brain of mine.
so many words form but how much can spill into poetry?
there is an extent to how much
words I can bleed
before I am exhausted
before I am dead.
dead.
"Stay dead,"
I tell myself.
he isn't worth
the pain.
but my tears still cascade every time I am reminded of you.
why is it I feel empty-
what is this sense of loss?
I cannot have possibly lost
what was never mine-
in the first place.
(Some poetry I wrote earlier this year. If the guy I wrote this for is reading, please note that I can't hate you more now. I learnt to see how much of a dick you were to me lol.)
YOU ARE READING
Wanderers
Poetry" She was written poetry While He was just a draft Combined together They couldn't have made art For one didn't rhyme with the other And sadly Both weren't in sync together. " (This is the first official book I've posted on wattpad and intended to k...
