| Scarred Shaking inside, it hasn't gone away. What am I supposed to do after so long? My fear became a gun, my words became bullets, and I ruined him with my shots, or so I am told; maybe I just ruined myself instead? Outside I am cool, together, frozen, an ideal image. Within, I feel like a baby left unattended, left without love. The words do affect me, they caress my inner beasts, and I am holding on to my leash. The leash is a line of phrases that strings together all my holes in one nice package of pain. Burning, but not with passion, it eats at my mind, my heart, my longing to continue with another. Most of all, I want my hell to cool, I want to be able to forget, I want to learn new ways to love. Until some unknown time, hopefully near, seemingly far, I am left scared, tense, and unable to be ready to live. |
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