by Andrew Hatcher
Instead I laugh... though nothing is really funny.
I tread through the ashes of what once was, only to find an empty shell of what my heart used to be.
To give ones heart to another, only to watch as it is thrown amidst the flames, is a cold bitter truth I have come to know all too well.
Time may heal these wounds, but these scars will remain.
They serve as a reminder... not for what could be but is not, but for what never truly was.
Last updated May 25, 2016