My heart is in my throat,
And now I'm choking.
Choking on this miserable heart.
I never asked for this,
But then again I did.
I fell, and now that hope is dead.
That hope with such sharp teeth.
Those teeth don't cut,
They tear, they tear.
They make such gaping wounds.
Wounds that open more and more,
Till I am one large wound.
I am blood and gore,
Because of that thing called hope.
Why? You might ask,
Because hope is a murderous bitch.
©5braincelz
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