• Torn

    The pain of loss rips at my heart

    into tiny pieces of red paper.

    Each piece is a tiny hole of tears

    that will never be able to be fixed.

    It is a loss of soul, of broken promises,

    of paths that were not traveled down.

    A mask I wear to hide the pain

    in which I can not survive in,

    to be living in a world where

    I have been torn apart.