Poetry/

It’s never enough

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The disappointment is understandable, but
My rage is incomprehensible.
How many times alone
You killed me in your mind.
Your hate ate out my heart
Like a fire.
I substituted it with a rock,
Cold as Arctic.



I had that feeling, yes,
Similar to this,
The clothes filled with empty madness,
Walls one must pretend
Because for real, there is nothing behind them.



I had that feeling, yes,
Through your skin.



It is a commotion of touch, no sound, no pain, no sight.



Not here, not now.



You know it as good as me,
But still, I died how many times.
How many times, how many ways in your mind.



This is a trap and I am not that cruel, you don’t deserve the truth.



It’s never enough, the only thing to regret is a pity after,
And that strange tension.



Nothing is so diminishing,
to be condemned
By the innocence.



It is the pity after, what stays, and that light.
Reality-dream, dream-reality,
It doesn’t matter.
It happened.

𝒶𝓈𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒶