BraveheartPosted: December 3, 2015
My life is a series of pain
Often the first people I meet
Were always the first ones to leave
Like a wind that just passed through.
It still hurt, yes, I ask myself why
I am always placed in these fateful encounters
Going through the circles and cycles
Of betrayals and of putting knives behind one’s back.
Often the first cut is the deepest
A slow torture that cannot be easily forgotten
Replaying like a movie in my head
Haunting my very existence.
It is almost always hard to let go
Oh, I will always know when
It was time to move on
I hurts to always say the last goodbye.
I form attachments I know will hurt
Full of bruises yet still unbroken
Full of false hopes yet still faithful
Until I had to put up a wall.
So now you ask why I was slow to trust
Now you ask why silence was the only thing you got
Dear, there’s more to silence than meets the eye
It speaks in volumes the only little forgotten things that matter.