There's nothing left in my words,
no meaning; not a sound to be heard.
No remorse for the people they've hurt,
constructing the rules of this damn world.
A heartache is something that I deserve,
for the actions I took even after I learnt.
Looking in the mirror defining my worth,
asking why my mother gave me birth.
I'm afraid. I don't want to be burned,
by those very fires that came first.
I lived too long with my face in the dirt,
passing each day believing I was cursed.
And every night seemed to just get worse,
cry for me if you ever see me in a hearse.
my passion is an unquenchable thirst,
but I can't write; I wait for life to revert.
a scattered mind like the stars dispersed,
even I don't know things that I've inferred.
you may think these are just a few words,
but this is my life; just poetically referred.
So many things for which my heart yearns,
yet desire sometimes causes infinite hurt.
I used to be able to serenade a verse,
now I feel like a balloon waiting to burst.