The Sorry End.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
An autobiographical poem.

Submitted: October 06, 2012

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Submitted: October 06, 2012



I hope you’re happy, I really do.

I hope he sees everything that I saw, I really do.

I hope he knows you, I really do.

Because if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t deserve you.

Darling, you’ll never see me, I’ll fade away.

I’ll get lost in my emotions, far away from your delicate smile.

I know that I left myself when you broke my heart.

I know that I lost myself when I moved away.

I hope that you live happily ever after but know that I’ll live alone.

Awake forever, never deserved of love.

I am cursed, a broken being.

Roaming the wilds with no kin.

I am empty and furious, broken and distraught.

I am hurt. I am dead.

Love I shall not feel any longer because it is the only thing I need.

I am sorry, I apologise from the depths of my being that you ever knew me.

Existence is a thankless struggle in which love and happiness are just mere illusion.

If I long to love then why do I long to die?

Why do I yearn for pain?

Why do I seek sadness?

Never shall I trust another again.

When death comes knocking I shall put up no fight.

I shall not wince nor fain.

I will stand and be destroyed because that is all that is coming to me.

How can I walk with a grievance so weighty?

How can I rise with such pain?

My heart is now muscle that no longer feels.

It no longer beats because it thuds.

It trudges through its daily routine.

My mind grows weak as my anger grows strong.

Please let me die as I have no purpose on this earth.

I am sorry for all the pain I have caused.

Sorry for all my mistakes.

Sorry to all my family.

Sorry to all my friends.

Sorry to all those that have had the displeasure of knowing me.

Please forget me.

No longer shall I wait.

No longer shall I want.

I am nothing but endless weakness.

I grip nothing anymore.

I hold nothing of any value.

All that remains is my soul.

I am giving in to this curse.

I am not strong enough to carry on.

I am a no one.

I am a passing face.

© Copyright 2018 Hernald Rumsfield. All rights reserved.

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