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Glass heart

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  Being miserable and distraught is fine knowing you have someone to talk to , to share every thought , but with noone you feel trapped in the dungeon of what is your  mind , where sucidal thoughts are your bed and self hurt is your pillow.Lied to , neglected , forgotten , and you wonder why I have trust issues .Cheated on , hated , emotionally scarred and you wonder why I fear affection .Abused only by the sound of your voice as it pounds my self esteem without the help of a fist. And here you leave me emotionally drained, useful as cigarettes on a plane. Realizing how I love is just a choice of how  hurt I am when the pieces of of my glass heart don't fit together anymore.

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