Reminisce Poem by Ashlyn Brena

Love is no longer love,
but a quench to lust.
Loving is now more expensive than Living,
More tears fall when relationships break
than they fall when relatives die.

My once tender heart
is now an old garden
of withered roses.
The petals long dried leaving
dry thorns to prickle.

My soul is now a haunted house
full of lovers who axed me.
It's now a ghost city of unrequited love,
If love is a game, lord give me strength,
I want to conquer.

My brains have become
a sump with stagnant water,
A breeding area for flies,
not empty, but full of nothing,
Scenes of them screaming on my bed.

Where are they now?