Sorry

Tear out this
Heart and hope
It stops beating
Slowly enough
So you can
Feel my life fading,
Don’t worry,
Zombies aren’t real,
Even if I feel
Like a walking contradiction
I have realized
Your true ambitions,
Oppose my blood red
Dreams,
I’ll wake up someday,
But not this time,
You’ll get your
Chance to pick
Me apart again,
I’ve always known
That you’d tire
Of me,
So I’ll keep my
Fingers still when
Above the keyboard
When the need
To be honest arises,
I shall live honestly
Only through this
Pen,
Where my heart is
The pen,
And the ink my
Very own blood,
Metaphorically,
Of course,
I shall always be
The over analytical mind
That casts itself into
The oblivion
Where the pain
Ascends,
While my thoughts
Destroy the small
Sense of pride
In which I had
Harvested,
How hard can it
Be to just open
What’s always been
Shut up,
Only to close off
What should be open
In the first place.
Torn apart from
Years ago,
When the stitches
Come loose,
When the scars
Split,
I always seem to
Take it out on
You.
What I’m trying
To say is,
I’m Sorry.
~Kaitlin Platti~