Writing with broken words

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
It speaks for itself

Submitted: June 07, 2015

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Submitted: June 07, 2015

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As this pen sits shakenly between my fingers

Words struggle to come out

My thoughts betray me as I try to write what I want to say

Telling me I would dead if someone found out this way

Maybe stress is consuming my body just as the earth does to a rotting corpse.

I feel like I have so much left inside my head

That is still unheard

And all of the stupid mistakes in life that I’ve made

Could never be erased

My hands are still trembling

Like I’m trying to write with broken bones

…If I have broken bones

Maybe I have a broken mind as well

Because I know that I have a shattered heart

One that cannot be fixed

Even by the masters of art.

But….

Maybe that’s what my life is

A series of paintings

That once was perfect

But are now stained and cracked

Kissed by disaster

Because I felt like I was once perfect,

Sometime oh, too long ago

I wish I hadn’t let those moments go by so fast

And I wish I hadn’t taken them for granted

Because maybe they would still be there

I have so many unspoken words…

Ones that I’ve let me consume me for so long

That trying to spill them out now

Feels wrong; like a sin,

Maybe this was all I was meant for

Maybe my life was meant to be broken.

Maybe I was never meant to win.

Maybe I was meant to be so in tuned with depression

That once death comes and snatches me in its hands

It wouldn’t shock me one little bit

In fact, it would feel like home is taking me back.


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