Empty space (can't call it a heart)
ripped out, choked up, torn apart.
Blood, don't stop itching, can't bear the rain -
the pain is numb. It's just a stain...
orange (three or four times - on the line),
top blocked, high, this one is fine...
Walking - or dragging - hoping to drag death
to the final rest, to the last breath...
Maybe I miss you - you'd never know more.
If I can't fight - what am I good for?
I have got your back. And you once had mine,
before I got pushed the fuck out of line...
We are flesh and blood - I need even that -
in the evening - I wake - and get caught like a rat,
in prison, in love, in everything in between.
For you, for me; YOU can't even be seen!
I have this scar, and that, and only you know.
Who am I talking to? Who cares enough to show
the way to a heart, the way to mend...
Well where do I start and where do I end?
Author notes
I am tired of fighting...from where the sun now stands, I will fight no more.
Chief Joseph
A contest entry
- Everyone wins points!! Quickie by spiritraven.
700 points, ended July 27, 8 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Babes... That missing feeling will end up being full again. Just you wait. Your lump of claret and fat Is as good as mine sweety... Even if it does feel like a dried up prune.
Anyways babe... Keep writing... Maybe you will write one for me. 
xox
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Maybe.
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wow....sounds like something so close to ma heart
love it n thank u 0_o -
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Cool beanz.
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A good write
A lot of raw emotion. Good flow. Very good rhyme. Thank you for entering my contest and best of luck.
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Thanks.
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