My Twisted Past

My Twisted Past

This broken heart,
That I somehow with-stand.
The sharp, shiny blade,
That I hold in my hand.

This messed up life,
That I somehow live.
The emptiness I behold,
With nothing else to give.

These mixed up reasons,
To make me want to die.
Can’t find an explanation,
Still trying to figure out why.

These faded scars,
That still remain.
This fcuked up world,
That’s causing me pain.

This meaningless poem,
That I’m sure won’t be hard to forget.
These pointless rhymes,
That many people won’t get.

This stupid little story,
About my twisted past.
I’ve written many of these,
But I can assure you this will be my last.