i thought…
i wanted…
i am always looking for…
i am nothing without…
must i fill these sentences?
is it compulsory
to tell you where it hurts and why?
the pencil bends and breaks
in my hand, but my voice won’t crack.
i think a bit of my cruelty shows
through everything that i do.
“have you ever wanted to be a person like me?”
when i ask you this, you avoid my eyes.
the often-spoken-and-never-meant words
surface on your lips,
“i love you for who you are, i want nothing more”
sadly followed by
“it is not too late to change”
it rains in my heart 