Heartbeats.
Heartbeats in our fingertips,
heartbeats in our mind.
We search for the answers,
but blood is all we find.
Heartbeats define us,
our broken pain and trust.
We live for the moments
that are built from dust.
They say it makes us stronger,
but that's an ancient lie.
When the pain doesn't kill us,
it makes us want to die.
For we're stitched back together
with broken bones and dreams.
But deep beneath the surface,
we're still tearing at the seams.
We wear our masks of bravery,
and say that it's alright.
But even in the daylight,
we're hiding from the night.
-leonardo r.
YOU ARE READING
Insomniac | ✓
Poetry[ THE FICTION AWARDS 2018 WINNER FOR BEST POETRY BOOK ] ❝He spent his life chasing butterflies, never noticing how he trampled on the flowers.❞
