Truth.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem.

Submitted: October 18, 2011

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Submitted: October 18, 2011

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It’s a disgrace. It’s a dishonour. It’s a shame.


My heart. Like a stress ball in the hand of emotion;

forever tormented in your grip.


Escaping through your fingers; stretched to it’s breaking point.

Insides on show for all to see. Only to come back; to be repeated again,

and again, and again.

Do you realise how much it hurts, how much it destroys?


It’s a grace. It’s an honour. It’s love.


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