Poems, general writings, ravings, and other things.

If you want to see me die, just tell me you don’t love me. And there I lay, the perfect silhouette of a broken man against the dark dirt. A beautiful halo of splattered blood around my head. In one hand, a shattered fist. In the other, the fingers are outstretched as if they were longing for something just out of reach. Hoping… wishing they could touch it, if only for an instant, just to get that feeling back. But it is gone. And it has taken everything. She has taken everything I have to give and left nothing but the silhouette of a broken man.