Pen

Even before the air touched my lungs

I’ve been missing something,

and after decades of foolish stunts

I’m still searching for that one thing.

As a child I tended to believe in “beyond”

taking fairy tales as the guide to “more”.

I became irrationally fond

of breaking the “real” for a “score”.

It led me to hurt that I cannot process

as the real couldn’t compare.

Every thing that I’ve done doesn’t feel like success,

and satisfaction is rare.

I have grown and this “spite”

should have withered and died

crushed by adulthood view and fails

but it prevails.

I am crippling my life

building future on hope

that this gaping hole

could be filled.

Even before I managed to lose myself

I could remember the longing,

and when I saw you, I swear I could deal

with the pain in my heart.

 

 

 

 

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