Posted in poetry, random, Uncategorized

broken.

I am a broken soul. I am a broken person made of a broken heart, broken bones, broken organs, broken tissues, and broken tears, too.

I can’t find my happiness – it’s missing. I forgot how to smile and laugh and have fun. I don’t know what to do with my life anymore.

Should I end it? Or should I continue living?

But nobody will cry for someone broken like me. No one would be there at my funeral. For I have no friends. I don’t have a family. This life I’m living…feels like I’m slowly dying every hour, every minute, every second even when I’m breathing.

It’s like I’m inhaling poison. It’s like I’m the persona of a sad poem. It’s like I’m the subject of a disturbingly heartbreaking song. It’s like I’m the girl in this certain painting of a crying person.

This life I’m living… Should I end it? No one would care anyway if I die.

For I am a broken soul made of a broken heart, broken bones, broken organs, broken tissues, and broken tears, too.

florence

Advertisements

Author:

"You need to get lost before you find yourself" likes: coffee ☕ || rain ☔ || books 📚 || music 🎧 || writing at 2 AM :)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s