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Hurting.

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The pounding words
of hate, regret, happiness
and hopelessness
tug at my throat
and torn vocal cords
seeking a way to breathe.

Throbbing minds, hearts, and souls
crowd my overworked body
pushing to the breaking point
where the world is veiled in black
and my mind works no more.
my soul no longer pains.
and my heart's beating ceases.

Giggles whisper through the thick air
tears splash on the cold stone floor
snickers glide and slice happiness to shreds
screams dance and linger forever.

Love.
Love?
Not a known word by my broken heart.



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GangstaEyes This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 4, 2011 at 9:43 am:
 I like this a lot.... Mostly because I feel this way often. Your word choice is pretty amazing :) I have a poem like this called "The Drug: Denial, The Junkie: Yours Truly" and "This?- This is Nothing at All" Keep writing!
 
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