In a world where love is a foreign adversary,
I am left here—in emotional poverty.
Repeatedly torn apart,
For nothing but to prove my worth…
through my art.
It is hard…
To find the right words,
to capture the perfect melody,
when the world is screaming at me,
to fight in the arena—
for pure entertainment,
to watch me bleed,
through my poetry.
It isn't enough.
It never is—
for I love too much,
in a world I once dreamed of,
though now that world
has become a nightmare.
And yet… I still care.
My heart, raw and unfiltered,
chases after her,
and yet, it's never enough.
I am all alone in this world—
with nothing but these words,
and a fractured heart.
I am trying to heal…
I am trying to feel…
I am trying to be real.
I am trying.
And yet,
all the world is lying.
And yet,
my whole heart is dying.
And yet,
my lonely soul is crying.
And yet,
my mind is still flying,
keeping it all together,
until the very last line,
that will elevate me towards,