You
Feel nothing,
See Nothing,
Hear nothing,
Sense nothing,
That’s you,
Feel everything,
See a lot,
Hear majority,
Sense more than you can imagine,
That’s me,
What I see,
You don’t.
What I feel,
You mustn’t
What I hear,
Your deaf to,
What I sense,
You haven’t the faintest clue. . .
I am wasting my time,
Or am I?
I’d like to know,
Rather sooner,
Than later.
I could give up,
But I won’t.
Why?
Because I’m not
Like you,
Fight ‘til the end.
Never stop,
Never mend,
Always pretend,
‘Tis my reality,
Although it often seems that;
Like a nightmare,
Of which I can run as fast and as long as I want,
but not escape.
I could escape if I wanted to,
But the pain is more than,
More than that of a million blades,
Blades that leave a labyrinth of red streaks,
Sadistic it may seem, but the pain is the only way,
To get sense of what is reality,
And not a dream,
I have a soft side,
Buried somewhere inside,
Open your eyes,
See where I bleed,
It’s there,
Always,
Never waning,
Always growing,
Growing wider,
Growing stronger,
Growing longer,
Growing tougher to control,
I ask not much,
Your love,
Your affection,
Your desire,
In the end,
It is I,
It is I that is selling you short,
All I have to say is,
I’m sorry,
But why bother,
You don’t care,
You don’t;
Never care,
Never Feel,
Never See,
Never Hear,
Never Sense,
And for that,
I am truly sorry,
Though it be not my fault,
Only the fault of your past.
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