Friday, January 31, 2014


Every heartache has a story.
Every tear drop leaves it's mark.
Countless times I've sat alone,
crying quietly in the dark.

How much can one heart ever stand,
it breaks with every bother.
With something small, or very great,
like the passing of my father.

Then it fractures even further,
shattered pieces break into bits.
an unrequited heart turns black,
and then suddenly it quits.

No more beating of the heart,
it is cold and dark instead.
this heartache causes so much pain,
I will feel better when I'm dead.


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