Broken

Usually pain is a great conduit

for poetry

This time though…I’m lost 

In the great abyss

Of a broken heart

A crushed soul

Give me a paint brush

And let me paint black nothingness

Where my mind has retreated

I would hang myself

If the chair were just a bit closer

Or I less tired

This rope has hung for days and days

Astriction a goal

If not a place

Where not breathing is the final big breath

Where loving you

Feels like life spent

I died that day

And have been a zombie since

Throwing my limbs in direction

Of responsibilities

While my laugh is gone

And nothing makes sense

but this tear…

That doesn’t seem to end.

Drown me in this stream

I beg god to end this scene

I only lived to love him

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