Everybody leaves;

everyone goes.

They walk away

and the sorrow grows.

Every step a fresh cut

in an age-old wound,

every tear

a drop of blood.

Bleeding out,

feelings on the ground.

emotions faded. . .

heart grown cold.

Leave me be,

this is my hurt.

It’s happened before;

it will happen again.

I remember

every face;

even though

they all forget.

I’ll remember

to the end,

all my old

forgetful friends.

Don’t cry for me,

just leave me be.

I’m used to this. . .

Go, now.





2 Replies to “Leave”

  1. Never did melancholia depreciate more than in this dismal outpouring of a wounded spirit. This poetic composition succeeds in conveying its great torment to the reader – very well done.

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