I wake up,
I fall asleep,
I think,
I feel,
And you're always there,
Because I don't heal.
You're always here,
So it feels so real.
always there,
so what else is there to feel?
Pain,
lovely pain,
sweet sweet irony of my past and present,
you are just a gift,
perfect for me and unholy indeed.
My soul yearns and my heart aches,
sometimes I wish to leave this place.
I want to keep you near,
my trustful adviser,
for I know you'll never be far from my side.
But I'm tired.
it hurts.
i want it to heal for once,
even just for a time.
cause pain lurks even in this rhyme.
So please,
One amount of time without the pain, please.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a mended artist.
Poetrythis will be a part two to my other set of poems. please read them but they are not needed to understand these. These will be much sadder than my original ones usually.
