I cry, And scream, And live in silence; And, repeat. I cry over our past, I scream thinking of the present, And the future is positively deafening― A future of "us" so improbable, So impossible, As surviving in a land Lacking the oxygen to breathe.
But, perhaps you'd like that. Suffocating me. And, repeat.
I cry, and scream, and hurt― Out of anger, And sadness, And a pain that aches So deeply in the very framework Of what makes me, me― I'd rather my soul Be ripped from my body; Torn to shreds, Pulverized with disgust, And distaste, And distrust.
Lost in your familiarity, Bound by your trauma, And comfortability, And false love.
I loved you. That word passing through my lips In past tense, Loved― Tastes bitter on the tip of my tongue. One word once uttered so fondly, Now a forgotten memory, Plus one letter Equates to the end of what was. Us.
My tears are my own. They do not belong to you, Like the remainder of my silly heart Once foolishly did with grace, And trust. I don't cry for you― I cry for what you took from me. The stolen life that is no longer mine To have, And mend, And mold.
My tears are my own.
✘
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
