I Give Up on You.

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It’s 5:32 am of the next day. I haven’t slept yet, so the morning is not for me.

Outside my window I see freedom everywhere, inside I’m trapped in me.

My tears that I’d once believed had dried, quelled up once again–

As looking through my old texts, I see bits of the person I used to be…

 

Naively falling, placing wagers on the wrong people, whom to trust and stuff…

Was I so gullible that I mistook my infatuation for immortal love?

I don’t know how I believed there was something redeemable in him,

But whatever the impression was, I’m still paying heavily for it.

 

I can say I liked a hundred million things about him, I know, I do,

I will also tell, he doesn’t and never will like a single thing about me.

Well it narrows it down, it was my mistake, I was naive and stuff,

But it won’t be true, since I myself would think it as a bluff.

 

I know my reasons, that they are sincere enough to make him see a fool.

Never will he see me as I want him to, and never will I give up on him.

So, when will it be when I would realize I actually need help?

When will the time come, I will be free from my unrequited love…

 

To see the world as his eyes do, to gain the equivalent amount of coldness,

For me to slander a friend, like he does to me and my emotions, Oh tell me!

He is a human, pretty and ugly. I wasn’t yet a human, but soon, I will be.

No fire, no storm, no longer human, I’d be. Like him. I pray, oh, tell me!

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I bleeding heart you

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I’ve been crying out really loud. Nobody hears it.

They think it’s probably the storm.

Maybe some of it’s going on,

In my head. Ravaging.

Gorging. Caving.

It showers.

I love the rain,

It cries with me……

Watching the wet clothes,

Falls slack, sticking to my skin,

I almost double over with fresh tears.

I remember I am a human. Like everyone else,

I get to keep my pride, my self. Not put up with someone,

Who demeans my rights, my own, who-am-I ideas, my personality.

I am not invisible. Clothes wouldn’t stick to me otherwise.

Winds blow stronger, in an attempt to undress me,

The kind of violence I’ve always fantasized,

For a special someone to use with me.

The one who’d never cared for me,

I cry for him, but I vow…no can’t do it;

I don’t want to see him cry. Never. Not even a little bit.

Just a wish, maybe a fantasy, I would very much like to see the sky raining blood.

With me.