Touched, what else should I call it?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Seems to be straight forward to me. Hope you like it! (Please note that this was written years ago).

Submitted: August 03, 2011

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Submitted: August 03, 2011




Touched, what else should I call it?
By: Megan Herrick
I sit and think of what to write.
With all my might try to think of something worth typing.
Try with all my being to  think of smiles or something good.
I could lie, but I don’t think I should.
I want to explain how deep I feel.
Wishing someone was here, to help me heal.
I can’t force the unwelcoming past to pass my sewn lips.
As I try to explain, my mind goes on a trip.
I don’t want to think of it as I bottle it away.
Even though I know, it will come back to haunt me one day.
My life passed so fast, and know everyone seeks to know.
So much time I can’t let go.
Even with the huge weight on my shoulders, my so ever beating heart seems to be getting colder.
The more I get pushed around, the less I seem to care.
And yet I know I’m only hurting myself, for to myself I’m never so fair.
For I’ve grown to hate the reflection in the mirror. I fail to succeed but my fate is getting clearer.
I never knew I could feel so much hate. Even now I know, I’m a little too late. I’ve wasted too much time, I’ve cut myself into too many pieces.
I can’t seem to trust, in this world of leeches. every second my light of hope grows dim. If you asked me, of coarse I would blame him.
Though for all that time I craved for his touch. But he went too far, and left me tortured.
Every day I feel broken and sick.
Or false?
You take your pick…

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