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"The Broken Hearted Fellow"

He seems to sit through
agony, swimming in its pain,
for such a tragic era
has refrained from its domain.
 
He locks himself in a room
dark as “Sleepy Hallow”
withering in bitterness
hatred, redicule, and sorrow.
 
The candle light is dim
the night dwells inside his bones,
his emotions go crazy
his mind overthrows cupids arrows.
 
He states in his poetry
“Love is just murder inside”,
then he slides the paper off his desk
lays on his back and cries.
 
He is a confused fellow
his conscience seems to say opposites,
his mentor says bad things
as his bad one gives compliments.
 
He mutters and whispers
hears voices deep within abate,
he’s out of his mind and control
every thin line is about to break.
 
His heart was crushed
she left him for alchohol abuse,
losing a sight of himself
he never meant to lose.
 
He says “ I cant love,
my heart is incappable,
why am I like this?
Why does love seem to be a fable?”.
 
He writes and writes
poems and letters
sends them to her every day
nothing ever becomes better.
 
He appologizes over and over
confessed all of his secrets.
but still she never wrote
and so he felt ever so needless.
 
He went to her house
He’s 60 years old,
he got out the car
and theres a teen in the home.
 
He asks “ Is she here?
my beloved wife antabella?”,
She passed away two years ago...
My"Broken hearted fellow".
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