Broken

I'm broken.
And at the same time, I'm not.
I'm lonely.
All the while, I'm fine.
I'm sane.
But I'm pretty sure I'm derranged.
I'm miserable,
But I know damn well that I'm content.
Is it heaven sent ?
All these damn misfortunes that befall me ?
Honestly, I fail to see
How walking through life in my shoes is best for me.
Unless it's these
Very same obstacles that will make me better.
But I have a feeling I'll die young or grow old bitter.
All I know is that life is a big cycle of lies.
And no matter how hard I try,
I
End up on the short end of the stick.
And I
Either react too quick, or come off as a big dick.
Use to be a nice guy, but innocence is quick to die.
And a heart breaks and aches and that creates
An asshole with a beating heart that's become subzero cold.
An asshole who lost control over the redemption of his soul.
I fold, because these cards I hold are subpar.
Not even worthy for anyone to test me.
Or trust me.
I forgot how to socialize.
If misery loves company, then we have moved past intimacy.
Because she does not even cheat on me, I am the only one she needs.
Sadly, I don't believe in divorces, so I'm stuck with her for eternity.
And she's made me believe that misery is the only company I ever need.
I've learned to dislike being around anyone.
Secretly, I long to be alone with my thoughts.
Where I am judge free, because everyone just leaves me.
For someone else.
I've learned to deal with that misfortune and lived with it.
And because of this,
I've begun to think that the world is like a great black pit
And the vermin of the world inhabit it
And its morals aren't worth what a pig can spit
And I wouldn't give a shit if the world was lit.
Ablaze.
I feel like how I first came to this country in the third grade.
Except now, I have to face my fears and they all weild blades.
And every swing hits me, one hundred percent accuracy.
Instead of blood, I bleed out insercurity and sanity.
And these puncture wounds and battle scars
Will never heal, no matter how far
You are.
I'm miserable because of this.
The reason why I try to live in ignorance and bliss.
I could be mentally insane.
But that's what happens when your work ends in vein.
I'm better off being lonely.
Because everyone is scared of the monster that is me.
I'm broken on the inside.
A reminder of how my innocence died, drowning in your lies.
I'm broken.
But I still try.

Thunderous Sounds

Replay that one day, early monday.
On my way to work, somethin' mundane.
The rain came down, with thunderous sounds
A girl walks by, with no umbrella around.
She took cover under the bus shelter.
I felt her shiver from this natural shower.
She sighed and indicated a goodbye.
I asked her to wait, at least till the rain grew light.
We talked for a while, but it came to a close.
As we looked on the horizon, and saw my bus came close.
The rain begain pourning much stronger now.
And she still had no umbrella around.
So I offered her mine, payment in smiles
A name to a face, and a number to dial.
She was grateful and walked on.
Turned the curb with my hand on my phone.
The light conversation that we spent.
Stayed in my mind till the day's end.
Then that evening, I called her then.
"The number you have dialed does not exist, please try again."

Bitter BreakUps

I wonder if any girl looks at a guy and says to herself:
“Wow. I broke his heart once.”
Tore him apart once. After a handful of months.
Regrets that she took his faith in relationships.
Tied it with bricks and threw it off a Pacific Oceanliner ship.
Watched his glass heart sink.
As she pushed his faith to the very brink.
Of insanity. Willingly. Purposely.
So that from the shackles of commitment she'd be free.
Only to watch his fragile beating heart cease to beat.
She took the deadbeat heart for hers to keep.
Like a trophy. So that she'll never be lonely.
Because hearts are rarely given away willingly.
Deceptively, that's one way to steal a heart.
Viciously, the alternative to rip them apart.
But do they look back on it and apologize?
Say sorry for the bullshit, drama and lies?
Tell themselves, he was better off not meeting me.
Because of me, he could've been living happily.
Cancer free, from a disease called heartache.
A result of carelessly letting your heart break.
Symptoms include never healing scars and painful memories.
Building thick walls and treating everyone as enemies.
There's no immidiate cure, it's a slow recovery.
But you'll never be the same as you use to be.
Treat everything coldly, and nothing seriously.
It's the price to pay for a little bit of maturity.
I wonder if any girl has looked at a guy and said to herself,
"Wow, I broke his heart once."
Said hi to him after thousands of unspoken months.
I can only imagine his response to the reason why his scars won't heal.
"Fuck you, cunt."