I drilled a hole in my door

So you could take a peak

But you opened ten wide

With the intention to compete

Who hurts more

Is not a race

Your ten do not exist

For my single one to replace




You were at the tip of my fingers

The first thing on my mind

Embedded deep in my heart

And the last to fall behind


Now my finger tips are severed

My mind is such a mess

My heart only a muscle

As you vanish ahead of the rest



You repeatedly said
I do not think
You know what that means
Not tearing down
Not scooping out
Not sacrificing
Beyond repair
That I lost myself
In the mess you made
And I reek of it
Deep inside
You wanted it
The way it was “supposed to be”
You wanted to take out
Everything I was
And fill to the brim
What you preconceived me to be
Did you wonder
Think to create
Something new
Without an instruction manual
Because the result differed
In reality
So you left
Telling someone else
It is not what you think
It means

His Mother

Her hair was thin and limp
Her eyes were set like stone
Her lips had quivered one last time
One last breath
Now a permanent goodbye
The scythe had swung one more time
Leaving nothing but despair behind

He was sitting by her feet
Stroking her legs
As if it was his final way to say goodbye
Death had kissed his home
A swipe to smite
To take away his most precious
And he knew that he would never be the same again