deepundergroundpoetry.com

Again

It happened again. . .
Did I deserve it this time?
Did I try too hard to make it all better?
I ended up breaking my own heart instead.
Three little jabs of the razor.
A tender hand that use to love me turns into a fist that does nothing but shatters my bones.
As I cut my wrists with the shard left behind.
It's all my fault, that it happened a g a i n.

It's always my fault.
I try to make things better, I end up making them worse.
So I sit with my arm cut open, my leg's bone broken and my mind unravel like a spool of fine thread.

And I will remain the blame for this ache in my chest.
My broken heart that I shattered all by myself.

Because it happened again.

And it's all my fault.

I'm sorry.

I broke everything.
Ruined this family.
Destroyed our lives.
Condemned us to misery, (it loves company after all).

I'm sorry.
This is all my fault.

My fault.
My fault.
My fault.
My fault.

It happened again.

I did it again.

Forgive me.
Please.
I'm sorry.

But it doesn't matter.
This will clear up, but time will repeat itself in due time.
We will break our hearts on another day.
Shatter our souls and leave us to decay in the aftermath of our hatred for each other.

"I'm sorry's" won't mean anything.
As we lay alone inside of our own minds.
The only asylums that are worthy of keeping us truely safe.
We are our own torture chambers.
And I order my doses daily.
As I wage war with the people who love me.
The people who are meant to be my family.

I hurt them until they break me.
And then I blame them for my mistake.

So yeah, I'm sorry.

Sorry that I did it again.

Sorry that I hurt us all, including myself in the end.