Lost Concentration
Broken back
Add upon the weight
To force a bow
You broke my heart
I hate you for all that you are not
Broken spirit
Say it twice to get it right
To choke the thought
You broke my heart
I feed you to the animal you’ve created
You torture me with what I can never be
You’ve abandoned me, I am an orphan
I am an orphan, the bastard son of a corpse
No matter how long I lie in the bed
The sheets remain always cold
No matter how long I let the wound bleed
I still feel like I’m drowning
So with this and that put down
I know nothing else matters
Nothing else matters as much you used to
But now
There is nothing
I am a ghost, in the absence of mirrors
I am an echo, in the absence of substance
I long for everything that only loss can give to me
I hate my own words
I am slowly growing weary of the pen
It no longer soothes; my fingers ache from the pressure
I despise my own voice, as only I will hear it
I am full of loss
I want nothing more than to lose myself in the crook of someone’s neck
But the pain of forcing the tears kills the comfort
I am tired and bored of the words stuck in everyone else’s throat
I want someone else to fill in my blanks
I want to close my eyes
And go to sleep
Just go to sleep
But that is too easy, and I will give nothing more to God
So, I’ll cry myself to sleep or at least cry to myself
Copyright © Seth Cross | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment