PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Everything is a shattered memory,
like shards that cut my hands and knees
while I crawl through the debris.

I don’t stop until I’ve bled myself dry,
until every ounce is poured out.

I’ve always denied how much my pain
has been inflicted by my own hands.

I do this to myself to give the hurt a home,
and to keep from feeling alone.

I thrive on this feeling, this emptiness,
the hollowness of broken bones.

Every single broken bone,
a reflection of a broken heart.