My heart hurts.
I'm not sure where the wound started
but it grows as life goes on.
None of this "time heals wounds" crap.
I feel like a disease that people try to move away from.
Yet I cannot move away from my own disease.
I am a fool.
But what else could I have possibly expected by giving my heart away
and then making the choices I made?
Bits of soul
bitter as a rough bottle of wine
are cast unwanted
and painfully down my cheeks.
It's hard to not feel like no one fucking cares.
Seriously, all I want right now is a horse or two...
on a tiny bit of land of my own...
in a place not overly populated.
With a few chickens,
and a ton
this is me.