by Persephone
Twisted and bruised, Broken and empty,
That is how I feel.
Cut and bleeding
Slowly, from wounds
That I have caused
To myself and others.
Howling and screaming,
Crying and shrieking,
Is the noise that
Is constantly
In my soul.
It won't stop.
It just won't stop.
There are moments, though,
When I feel joy
And happiness
And warmth and light,
But I can't hang on to them
Long enough
To heal myself completely.
So I give,
And I keep giving,
In the hopes that I will
Learn to stop
Taking so much
And hurting everyone around me.