Death of the Romantic

Fri, 10/21/2016 - 00:31 -- Adynna

   

I've got ice in my veins

Fire in my heart

My head begging for a reason

 

Fuck these thoughts

The childish weakness

breeding doubt like rabbits

 

The thoughts insist persist

They pathetically beg

Needing relief 

 

Heartache

Fucking fuck it

My stomach like boiling oil instead of butterflies

 

I feel them; the scars

Slowly agonizingly tearing back open

The blood oozing down like lava

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741