That fateful day when you broke my heart,
It was in a million pieces.
I tried to pick them up, and put them back again.
But I did not realize I was all alone.
And when I did, shit got hard.
I needed to get used to the loneliness,
as the loneliness I’d have felt before, was nothing like it.
And as low as I was, little did I know shit was only going to get worse.
Cause you did not try.
You did not lift a finger.
You did not dare to say the words,
and that has left my whole being in pieces.
Pieces that will probably never be picked up,
pieces that I will have to miss in my character forever.
Pieces that other people that want to be close to me, will curse me for, or even you.
Pieces that would have been fine, had you not walked away so limpy as you did.
I don’t know how to feel about it anymore.
I feel sorry for you, for being such a coward, incapable of breaking us up yourself.
At the same time you apparently still have feelings too, so I might need to feel sad for you, as you probably wanted a happily ever after too.
But sometimes I can only feel the rage, that is building up inside of me, a rage that does not fit my personality, cause it is simply too big, too deep, and too much all together.
But most of all, it is too true. It is legit, and it should stay inside.