Published May 5, 2014 by Amy Elizabeth

Is ringing my own heart the worst way to feel?
Cause my fingers feel like ash
That has been burnt one too many times.
The black dust becomes the surface
That will inevitably crumble.
And I can’t cope
If this tiny stretch of hope
That’s slowly learning to grow,
Turns to dust;
Because I will fall.

Wait…scrap that.

I have fallen.

I’ve fallen into depths.
And sometimes I forget how to come up
For air.

So I hope to god;
No matter if I’m too stupid to realise,
Or if I don’t tell you all the time,
Or if the amount I care slips your mind,
Or if I step out of line,

That I’m good enough for you.

Because although the tears don’t stain my face,
They settle in my lungs.
And the more I breathe,
The more I drown.

So please…
I’m begging you…

Save me.


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