If words helped
You don’t deserve a single word;
A moment of my time.
Yet in the early morning I find myself struggling,
Writing down senseless words to try to make sense of this.
I pull out my hair, and write ‘til my hands turn blue.
Only to come full circle and realize,
There will never be words to describe the mess you made in my soul.
There is no closure with monsters.
Even words cannot do that.
This poem is about:
Me