Fracta Anima

Maybe instead of life Maybe I’m the joke. Maybe I stopped mattering, So why does this matter? The shattered pain in my eyes, Mirrors that reflect only you. Do you see the cracked smile; Your laughter is a dagger to my soul. The frustration is a merry-go-round; I might fall off and die. The pain is rotten, a corpse Twisted all around my heart. Tears are uncountable, endless Crying at night but still more. Oh, the despair in my soul! I long only for joy, please, Is that just too much to ask? Those beautiful dreams are ruined, Why on earth were they given? Was it all my fault or maybe No one’s fault, just life, The joke that is me. The cuts will scar, as always Yet can’t you see them, Or maybe you refuse to. The outside cuts are nothing Compared to my heart, ruined, Destroyed by far too many hopes. My trust, shattered like glass And lying in the wasteland, My bitter tears are the oasis. Tired, yet no sleep is found here, So many questions in my mind, My heart can’t ask you again. I’m sorry, oh the mistakes made, And there will be so many more. I am hollow, a container of sorrow, Of lifeless, wingless dreams, so frail. The hot fire mixes with it, The anger that is me and my mind, Questioning, screaming and so unhappy. Delusions are my safe, happy place; I only wanted love.