Wednesday, August 03, 2011

Not Enough

anguish tears my soul apart;
shattered lies the shards to my heart.
always questioning,
always wondering,
which portion of me fits not the list.
blank is the canvas,
and shudders, the artist,
as the empty masterpiece is ripped,
from edge to edge.
no more answers;
no more pages to turn;
remains are the skeleton, once whole.

is there reprieve,
from the wailings of a soul?
will the shutters stay closed,
and I be seen no more?
deserted is the now;
I stretch my hand out,
but the air swirls around it instead,
and once more, I am left grasping,
pain ensuing,
knowing-
it wasn't enough.

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