Torn

You’ve been taken, cursed and torn,
Stripped beyond only bodily form,
But what’s the difference?
You survived.
You made it out somehow, alive.

What’s the difference?
Life goes on,
Wanting to die as you dread what’s beyond.

So fucking forlorn.
No more residual sign of the morn.

What’s the difference?
Your tears are all that’s left
As you’re living bereft
Of all you adore.

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Filed under depression, poem, poetry

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