Ace Of Black Hearts
Facing A Train Head On Coming At Full Speed.
Running straight towards the mighty freight train.
I wonder if I will survive.
Not my first encounter.
But hopefully the last.
Blasted, wasted, obliterated.
This is your creation.
The art of breaking.
Scars, reopened just to feel.
A video on repeat.
My hearts folding.
Time to just pack up.
Time to leave it alone.
Somethings just don't work out.
Sometimes I just care too much.
I should have known.
Your were better off to go home all alone.
I can't help you.
For I can't even fix myself.
There is no us, there never was.
Not even in the best planned dreams.
I take my coffee black now.
No sugar or cream.
It is to wake me up.
Days not so long, but so far gone.
In outer space.
I've always walked a tight line.
On the edge.
A balancing act.
And there is no looking back.
A breath of fresh air.
The senses are not what they once were.
My mind is a leaking broken pen.
The pain will never end.
A dull echo.
Harboring words that have little meaning anymore.
Grudges dead and dormant.
I'm not angry, I just want to be happy.
Is that really so much to ask?
A prayer unanswered.
No cure to this cancer.
The hollowed out tree.
Maybe it is time to plant a new seed.
One in better soil, in a better environment.
Fortune engraved on my tombstone.
I have nothing and I will leave with even less.
This is not to impress.
It is the way it is.
Shoveling manure for my entire life.
Eating the scraping off the walls.
Hunger is always on call.
Ready and waiting.
I wouldn't know what to do with myself.
Only If I had it that easy.
Probably would give it all away anyways.
Because if it isn't earned it's not honest.
This life for the next.
A wave to the passerby.
A rope to come untwined.
Worn out from over use.
Who was it all?
How many names?
Can you even fit them in a library catalog?
Keeping order of chaos.
When it serves no real purpose.
Let this be the last, the very last.
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Comments about this poem (Facing A Train Head On Coming At Full Speed. by Ace Of Black Hearts )
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Edgar Allan Poe
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