The Beating of the Broken
The beating of the broken
its simply a game
A devastating death, of on whom can be placed the blame
The agony, the despair, the timeless ache
two hearts, one soul..so fragile, ending in a break
A book of answers remains unread
and the night, the blanket of black, replays all of the viscous things said
You start to wonder if heartache can kill
and seriously contemplate if the way out, is a pill
The excruciating pain, when you look in the mirror
and see the emptiness in your eyes, and start trembling in fear
Begging God to have mercy on your soul
to stop this war, for you’ve taken your toll
The time line that holds the sacred death
it too holds the answer, and it lies on your breath
The beating of the broken; torture chamber of the weak
where two helpless souls will hold each other and weep.
I wrote this poem with a very wet face, when going through a terrible break-up with the first man I loved. It is meant to display a hell-like image of two people terribly in love, but torturing each other until the battle is lost on both ends. They both suffer.
