Time is my worst enemy, and I'd say that's simply put.
Time is bittersweet- it scarcely gives, and takes it away before you heal. It gives just a taste of freedom, a small shred.
There are those that make me happy, loved; but I can no longer say safe. I've had this story repeat itself time and time again, I'm stuck in one chapter of a book that's meant to move on.
Those who love me ever so sweetly, their heart dies rather fast. It's to be expected. I can't hurt or disappoint myself any more, no more.
Yet, although I feel that I'm so careful, it follows me everywhere. Hurt, that is. It almost seems as if it's in love with me. It's unrequited. At least I say so.
But it knows that it's the only thing I can turn to, the one thing I'll always have. I one thing that'll never leave, no matter how far I attempt to push it away. It follows me.
It's a poison, addictive. I don't want to be addicted, but it's the only thing I can drink to save myself from dying, because nobody will give me water. There will never be anyone to fill my heart, as much as I wish there was.
So I drink the poison.
Though it saves me from my own death, I know very well out of everyone, that it is slowly killing me.
I want water.
I need it.
So I hope for any kind soul that sees me,
Please fill my broken heart.
I know it'll drain, but maybe you could heal the cracks too.
