This emptiness,
this empty feeling inside,
this empty feeling in the mind,
this lonely heart,
this lonely heart who is closed,
and suffocated and void of anything,
and who has no wish to talk to anyone,
it is not me,
but it is a shell of me,
a shell of me and half a person,
half of what I used to be,
and it is no good to me,
but how I wallow in the mire of such misery,
and how I wallow in the mire,
and how it swallows me,
how it swallows me up and it should not be,
but it is me currently, and how I wish it were not,
because I fear for my own sanity,
and you have deprived me of everything,
and you have shattered me into a million pieces,
and I relive my life with you,
and in my dreams,
and I am not better for it,
but it haunts me your love,
it haunts me,
and I wish it away,
but it keeps returning to me,
the memory of you,
the repetitions of the visions,
how cruel they are to me,
these visions of happy times,
visions of the best times of my life,
yet no longer do they exist,
except in my fractured memory,
and in my broken heart,
in my broken heart that should not be,
but it is, and how unlucky I was,
that you deceived me,
and now,
I am a bitter me,
a bitter me, and I have no wish to be,
and here I sit,
crying far too often and in misery,
and how I wish it was not so,
and how I wish that our lives together had never been,
but then again, in a moment or two I will wish for it again,
for love is a complex and a cruel thing,
and a wonderful thing all wrapped up into one,
but oh, what great destruction love can bring,
what great destruction love can bring to everyone.
