The tears are streaming from my eyes like water falls from a cliff.
My nose is leaking as much as a broken pipe.
My heart aches so much, I can hear it.
I know it's not my heartbeat; it does not carry that much pain.
Why does it hurt?
It's for our own good.
It's.. For my own good.
It's true.
But I don't want to believe it.
I don't want to.
All this time spent loving ends in two hours hating.
All that time spent with warmth, leaves my heart cold.
This.. this is why I never wanted it.
Love.
It messes with my mind like poison does once it streams through one's veins.
It messed me up.
Still does.
Yet here I am longing for it.
For What?
For a happier life?
For.. For...
For love?
...
The book is closed yet I'm still looking at it.
They tell me throw it away for my own good.
I'm putting it on my bookshelf.
Call it a mistake.
Call me lunatic.
But this?
This is chiliastic.
YOU ARE READING
Introspection
Poetry"I can't keep everything in here forever" Welcome to my mind. In here, you'll find dozens of thoughts, mostly written like poetry. Prepare for a journey through pain, and suffering, but also through love and cheerfulness Warning: Some themes discus...
