Broken Hearts.

Removal of passion was the last resort, the last plan of action. hoping to patch up the wound she left when she tore apart your heart and left it there to remain broken. Lost in the world, you swore you'd never trust someone again. you swore you'd never open that door. Sealing it shut, hoping to ban anything that could harm you. You're sure you'll never do this again. Picking up the pen, you spill your guts out on the paper in front of you. Organized thoughts, fitting a melody, following a beat. The beats are nothing compared to your own. You tried to make sense of the constant calamities but all you found were incoherent altercations that made you want to change. Change who you are, who you want to be. You strive to be free, free from the wreckage you call your brain. It's all you've ever known. You'll go it alone. Years spent wondering why they left you on your own. You never were taught how to deal with this. but none the less still chose to cope instead of finding rope. You still chose to cope without a single toke or swig. I wish you'd realize when you break someone else's heart, you don't get to use those pieces to assemble yours in hopes that it will mend.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
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