Throb.

Silently the pain in my lungs it trickles,

Viscous and potent it fills, little by little.

.

My heart is now shielded,

For once it was yielded.

.

My stomach now clenched;

To stop the offence.

.

My ears are now a fold,

To stop the lies being told.

.

My eyes are now sealed,

As my flesh is now peeled.

.

My mind keeps busy,

For this throb makes me dizzy.

.

My hands a stretch for her delicate touch,

But there is nothing here but misery as such.

.

I look at the clock,

For me it does mock.

.

Minutes, hours, days and weeks,

He asks me “what do you seek?”

.

My answer; “I seek the happiness of the past,”

He replies: “the history of that has longed and passed.”

.

For you see even time gives us no amnesty,

For what is my broken, my dreams, my fallacy.

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