Bello Sogno

Thoughts... abstracts of my mind,
Clinging to my false hope,
Petruding myself to sleep,
Pulling me closer to my death...
 
I hate this pen,
This paper with it's ink,
Scribbled words that make no sense,
Of no rhyme, no structure,
This is me at my best,
But I'm not good enough...
And it cuts me so deep,
You don't have to post,
I don't see why you should...
 
This cut isn't healing,
It starts...
And it's opened real quick,
Except this time-deeper,
More painful then before,
The majority of my poems,
Are about you,
'The boy I never understood',
Why couldn't they be about my ex,
That way it'd be the same as the rest,
'Oh, he left me blah blah blah'
'I can't live on'...
The same story over and over again,
But no, they are about you,
We were closer then couples,
Closer then friends,
But it seems I'm living in a dream world,
Where sleep symbolises death,
Atleast there's a comfort when I go to bed,
I'll slip into my coma,
And hope it last forever,
But it never does,
It never does...
I wake for another day,
Like all the rest,
My days are one times zero,
Nothing...
Nothing to be said,
No need for life to be dreamt,
Because even in my sleep,
You left,
Even in my sleep I'm hoping for death,
Even in my sleep... I'm awake...
Just dreaming...
Dreaming of things to say to you next,
Words to cut through your soul,
Like you broke my heart,
But I only ever end up in tears...
Thanking God, you're back...