I’m fragments
of what-used-to-be.
Folding, changing.
 

Like a carousel,
again and again,
I’m sick of trying to decipher
words I don’t understand.
 

Translations overrides meaning.
Some things cannot be interpreted
without losing its polish.
 

Theres double meanings in words.
Twisting definitions
and forming white lies.
 

Some things are:
???????
(not meant to make sense).
 

Left.
Either remaining or departed.
 

Maybe a little of both,
because once you leave,
a piece of you will still remain.
And if you stay,
a part of you
will always wonder
why you did not depart.
 

I am not resilient, even though I wish to be.
 

How many times can a heart bend before it breaks?