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Literature Text
I found myself buried underneath
Rubble of a broken heart
Drowning in a pool of her tears
She looks at me with dead-like eyes
Her skin pasty white and bleeding
Oh, she moans loudly
I bring her quivering body into my embrace
Holding her tightly to my chest
And begins to cry with her
Calling out to heaven to heal this damaged heart
Rubble of a broken heart
Drowning in a pool of her tears
She looks at me with dead-like eyes
Her skin pasty white and bleeding
Oh, she moans loudly
I bring her quivering body into my embrace
Holding her tightly to my chest
And begins to cry with her
Calling out to heaven to heal this damaged heart
Literature
So What's Wrong?
I love art class, I really do.
I love to paint and draw and get amazing results.
But sometimes I can't help but not want to be there.
Sometimes, I hate it.
No one talks to me.
Then again, I have my headphones on.
No one knows me that well.
But, I seclude myself from everyone else.
It's really boring at times.
I never integrate myself in their conversation.
My teacher barely gives me criticism.
I don't ask a lot of questions either.
People tend to stay away from me.
Yet I always have this aura of not wanting to bothered around me.
When people pass by, I can feel their eyes on my back.
Their breath brush up behind my neck and on my s
Literature
looking inward
And then the day came
The day my mind opened
Just the smallest of a break
So that I could see inside my own thoughts,
As if I were an outsider looking in.
And what I discovered
Was truly disturbing...
A Pandoras box
Of jumbled thoughts
Of half planned ideas.
This tiny crack revealed
A child's misunderstanding
Of what was true
And what was not.
I saw that I allowed others
To control my every action
My every thought
As if they owned me.
I saw how I let others lead me/use me.
How I trusted so easily
To totally trust
Without reason. I saw the people I had let into my life
I saw them as they really were
Life suckers who had almost drained
Literature
Does it even matter now ?
"Say, does it really matter now?" A voice that always haunt me,
"I don't know...Why do you always ask?" I questioned back like always.
"Don't you think, you should just give up on trying? Isn't it just hurting you?" That voice continues,
"It is, but I don't want to be alone." I answered hesitantly.
"Isn't being alone better than letting them treat you as a tool than as a friend?" The voice argued back.
I remained silent and became more and more hesitant on my choices.
"Does it really matter, why not just throw away your care?" The voice said sadly,
"Why not just throw it all away, so it won't hurt. Why not just give it up and be yoursel
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I wrote this yesterday after feeling down and sad
© 2013 - 2024 TheImpossibleWriter
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Oh wow I love it