Is it so bad that I want to jump off of a tall building?
Not as a suicide attempt.
I just want to have a moment of no control.
A moment of feeling weightless.
Just falling with a big smile on my face.
Having fun before it all ends.
My hair all about me, my clothes flapping, me screaming like I'm on a roller coaster.
I'm not concerned about meeting the ground.
It's all about the NOW.
And that's how I'm going to live my life.
In the NOW.
I'm going to live my life like I just jumped off a building.
No control. Just taking every moment to smile and scream out in joy!
I won't be concerned about death.
Just about falling and enjoying it.

Maybe I'm not meant for these duties.

I wake up the house and make a pot of coffee.
I get everyone ready before me.
I cook some breakfast and make the kids eat it real fast.
We're late for school it's already 10 past.
I take them to school and drop them off.
Still more to do; no time to stop.
I get the laundry going and give the dog a bath.
I take a 5 minute break to sit down and relax.
I go buy groceries and make a quick lunch for the hubby.
Get pulled over by a cop because I was driving in a hurry.
Get to his office and leave his lunch with the secretary.
She snatched it out of my hand now that wasn't necessary.
I drive back home and clean some more.
Go to the kid's soccer game to watch my babies score.
I take them home, prepare the meal and get the kids fed.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and turn down their beds.
Get them into bed so I can get into bed.
The husband comes home and he's ready to be fed.
Get out of bed, get him fed, get back into bed.
I'm almost asleep when he tells me he wants desert.
I'm too tired to move so I let him do all the work.
Then I can FINALLY go to sleep.
Only to wake up the next morning and repeat...

I clean and clean but dust gathers where I just wiped.
This is me trying to be the perfect wife.

I feel pain everywhere.
It's like my body is in mourning.
all I can do is hope that it's gone by morning.

It hurts me.
The things you say to her, you used to say to me.
And it hurts.
Those words were so special to me once.
And now they're special to her.
I don't like sharing something like that.
It's just not sanitary.

My pastor points his finger and lets it linger.
SINNER SINNER SINNER!
I laugh to myself.
"I know you are but what am I?"
SINNER SINNER SINNER!
Well that makes two of us.

Fear is a funny emotion.
Makes cowards of us all.
I would have told you I loved you.
I still do.
But the coward in me kept me silent.
Makes me sick to my stomach.
Things could have been so different.
You could have taken my breath away,
but I hesitated and kept my breath away from you.

Who am I?

I am a God fearing woman. I respect others but I respect myself the most. Why? Because other's respect is not guaranteed. I set my priorities and I don't compromise. I am a natural leader. Call me bossy if you want. I don't curse but I cuss alot in my head. I am mean, but it's my sense of humor. No one gets that it's my sense of humor, so they really think I'm being mean. I love to love. But I hate to receive love. So don't bother. I'm more of a listener then a talker. Mainly because I never know what to say. I write poetry because it can be as controversial as I please. I tend to be a controversial person. Controversial person; controversial poetry; makes sense. I'm a bad liar but I try. I am not a morning person or a night person. I enjoy a cool breeze. I like to laugh. I tend to be the one that makes myself laugh. I do not depend on others for my happiness, my security, my well-being, etc. I don't rely on others because dependability is rare. I myself am not dependable, but when I let myself down, it is easier to be hard on myself than to be hard on someone else. I strive to be the best. I want to make my parents proud. That's why I keep secrets a secret. You will never know the real me. I don't even know the real me. I like being a mystery. I am stubborn. I do what I want. I get what I want. Any blessing or struggle is all from God. I am thankful for it all. I am thankful for everything; my friends, my family, the food I eat, the clean water I drink, the opportunity for education, the opportunity to see the world, etc. I try to be a good person. But I try too hard. I fail. I like being alone. I don't like being alone. I prefer to stay home on the weekends. I have two cats because I want something to take care of and something to love. I am socially awkward. I have a staring problem. And I'm dyslexic. I am a simple person. I am a complex person. I have a lot of problems that I am working through. I don't trust many. I don't want to be told I need help. I am the one who decides that. I get help when I want it. I do what I want. Right now, I am trying to make me happy and put myself first. Sounds selfish. It is. But I'm tired of putting it on myself to make others happy. it's my turn. Don't like me? Don't care.

I always related to Scarlet O'Hara in Gone With The Wind.
A stubborn mule that was the tragedy to her own life.
And he's like the Rhet Butler of my story.
Patient enough to try and love that mule.
But Scarlet, she's a idiot.
She pushes him away.
And he eventually gives up.
And it's when he gives up that she realizes she loves him.
Frankly, he doesn't give a damn.
And she's left there, damned.

I am a diamond in the rough that you can't touch.
So don't make it your mission to cut and shine me up.

I spent last night trying to sleep in a cardboard box.
All the strangers around me knew I was lost.
My stomach grumbled at me for not feeding it.
No one would give a beggar money that really needed it.
The nights are cold and getting colder.
Couldn't sleep without looking over my shoulder.
The highway noise and sirens would never cease.
Dang, how did this happen to me?

I don't want you to know how I feel. I want you to feel how I feel.
I want you to hurt like I hurt.

I feel like I should apologize.
But I know you'll simply ask what I'm sorry for.
And I'll say, "I don't know".
I'm just always doing something wrong,
And for that, I'm sorry.

Here I was, alone.
And this mockingbird came and perched up beside me.
It sang me a beautiful song.
And I was no longer alone.

I feel like I just got dumped without getting dumped.

The day you came was the day I pulled out my fine china.
It was a special day, obviously.
You were special to me, obviously.
But you only stayed for a while.
You ran your finger over the brim of the cup.
You passed on the coffee.
You passed through me.
You left with a simple "good-bye".
And I put the china back in the cabinet,
Clean and unused.

Don't take offense when I say that I don't want your love.
Give it to another.
I give and give and give.
I just don't know how to receive.
So take what I give you and leave.

I figure
If I drink a little more
If I smoke a little more
If I curse a little more

They'll like me

If I drees like them
If I talk like them
If I walk like them

They'll like me

If I visit the places they've been
If I've seen the thing they've seen
If I believe what they believe

They'll like me

But you won't recognize me.
Because the old me is in hiding.

It is what it is but don't share it with the kids. The less they know the better. The less likely they'll ban together. The less likely we will be overrun. We can keep our power so long as we load our guns. Keep the people stupefied and maybe the will never know we lied. This is our government. This is our land. And if I have to suffocate a rebel I'll do it with my own hands. Keep them stupid. Keep them weak. IF we do that we can have this power for at least another week. Keep them scared. Kill their father's. Kill their mothers. Rape their daughters. This is how we win. This is how we stay in power. And America? No need to worry. They are never in a hurry. They will play footage of us on their nightly news. The families will watch as they eat dinner. And then they will move on with their lives. This is how we stay in power.

They turned off my lights, closed the door and whispered goodnight.
Sweet dreams, sweet dreams. And then I grew up and it became other things.
No one is here to tuck me in to bed. No one is here to put food on my table and make sure I'm fed. My childhood is dead.

I was once beautiful. Untouched. Pure. Innocent.
Man sampled over me. Raped me. Beat me. Used me.
He tore my dress. The one mother made me. Tore it to pieces.
He claimed me. Made me his property. And disrespected me in every way imaginable.
He cut me and divided me. Sold me to whoever wanted a piece.
He let them take me. He let them rape me. He let them beat me.
Here I am. Ugly. Divided. Used.
Here I am. Your land.

I'm lost in this world.
It has swallowed me whole.
I'm lost in this world.
It has swallowed me whole.

I didn't sleep last night.
First stage of insomnia.
I tossed and turned,
As did my mind.
What did I find?
Nothing.
I am an empty carcas.
I wake up
     get ready
          go to school
               do homeowrk
                    go to work
                         go home
                              do more homework
                                   go to sleep
Repeat.

I feel like everyone is dying.
A plague of death.
Too many funerals,
Too many black dresses to pick from in the store,
Too many people borrowing my tissues,
Too much for me to deal with.

All I wanted was someone to call "Baby".
Too koo at and share my sweets.
And I finally found someone!
Such a handsome boy.
He doesn't mind when I call him names like:
Pookie-Bear
Honey-Bun
Cutie-Pie
He smiles every time I say one of those.
And he loves to play with me!
We go to the park and swing on the swings.
Play a cute little game of hide-and-go-seek.
And then we go home.
I make him supper.
We dine.
And then I put him to bed, kiss his forehead, and wait downstairs for his parents to return.
They come back and give me $25 on my way out.
"Baby" sitting.

And so it began. Button by button my blouse was unbuttoned. My shirt taken off without any discussion. Just one more button on the top of my jeans, the zipper goes down, was this even foreseen? The pants are pulled off and my bare legs exposed. You know what comes next, yes the rest of my clothes. I lay there naked and my body is examined, but not in the way that you think because what is assumed never happened. With a flick of a pen my cause of death is recorded, they put my file in the cabinet alphabetically sorted. White sheet overhead, name tag on my toe, as I wait to be lowered six feet below.

How can you even tell.
You can't see me.
You don't know me.
But you think you can read me?
Listen, I'm good at THIS.
I fear God, but I figured out how to work around it.
I twist my words. I shape my words.
I add my little sinister smile and make every word worth while.
Oh it's the truth in my soul. But the world...well you know what earthly things do.
They twist everything all over again.
You see I'm good at this.
You may be all close to me.
You know, with those fancy wires taped to me, tracking my heart beat.
Are you expecting it to stop?
To race at the thought of getting caught?
No, no, no.
Like I said...I'm good at this...

I just need to detox.
You know, get it out of my system.
I said I'd go to rehab willingly but the cops didn't listen.
I was just another drug addict with a bad habit.
One that conveniently rotted my teeth and gave me bad acne.
But they got products to fix whats rotted.
I'm happy this way.
I've always been the independent girl.
Now I'm dependent on something of the world.
I better watch myself before I relapse.
Relapse.
I just need to detox...

I love my barrio

This is my home. The dirty streets and uneven concrete invite me in.
The Tex-Mex food and language tickle my senses until I'm senseless.
The people hug me and kiss me on the cheek. My knees go weak.
I've been romanced.

I am

I'm the puppy on the side of the road, abandoned and forgotten.
I'm the piece of fruit on the back of the shelf untouched and rotten.
I'm the insignificant other yet your trusty sidekick, Robin.
I'm the neighborhood no one feels safe in, Compton.
I'm the kid you pick on in the playground.
I'm the weak prey that you surround.
I'm the item that remains lost and never found.
I'm the soul that's darkness bound.

I'm Fancy

You ever have one of those days where you feel so...sexy?
Watch me get cocky.

I see you breakin your neck to look at me
Cuz I know that you like everything you see
I'm so hot that you gotta wear sunscreen
layer it thick and everywhere in between

You see my face, it's in your mind, there's no forgetting me
Here's deodorant and Gatorade now stop sweatin me
I see you commin at me tryna sting me like a bumble bee
I put on bug spray no more seein you now you're history

I'm fancy.

The Blog of Gabrielle Villafuerza

Many of my friends left me. The ones I had left didn't stay around much longer. So I started all over again once again. You know how that awkward first day of school goes. And then the second week. And then the first month. I'm still making no progress. I'm social but socially awkward on top of that. Now I'm the kid trying too hard. Making a stranger cookies for their birthday, giving free rides to places like I enjoy be used, being a floor mat at that. Ugh. And I write this to you dear blog, because your the only one that seems to follow along. One day, just like Anne Frank, my only friend, my diary, will be read by the world, and everyone will feel what I felt.

Hands

My hands shake yours. Whether it's a professional greeting or a casual meeting. They are quite social. My hands write what they feel and feel what they write. I ain't no lefty so I write with my right. My hands feel things that my eyes can't see. The sensitivity in them has increased because my sight is deceased. My hands fight. Whether it's in a balled up fist in the air or against an enemy's cheek, my hands are not weak. My hands pick up things that seem unimportant, but my hands can't seem to ignore it. My hands steer me down the highway because I have control and travel myway. My hands are calloused and rough because life ain't easy, it's tough. My hands create music and rhythms, moving so fast pastors want to do exorcisms. These hands ain't possessed, they're blessed.

I got that rain tappin on my windowpane. The weather seems to coencide with my aches and pains.

Back to pain. I know it well. I feel it in my bones. It goes so deep. The doctors don't even know what to think. They draw vials of my blood and let it go cold. I walk away with a band-aid and a sticker that I stole. Now we wait for the results and I go to God and consult. These limber limbs ain't so nimble anymore. This peachy skin bruises like a peach. This bed of mine holds me longer and longer because I can't seem to get stronger. The doc already has my pharmacy on speed dial. I hope that doesn't mean this is final. Until my next appointment...

Watch Me Get Cocky

This smirk can't be wiped off my face. I know I'm good. Proud of it. I rhyme in my head so the skills don't go dead. I nod my head to the beat so I can stay in rhythm when I speak. I got this in the bag. You won't hear me through the speakers, but the possibility that you could is what makes these other rappers seem weaker. I could do what they do. I could do it better. With less words. Less cursing. More clothes. a better message. But I chose not to. Because I'm just that good.

Put that in your boombox and listen.

My pen bleeds on this band-aid of a paper. Call me a paper waster. And you bet when I crumple this paper up and throw it away, I won't recycle. I don't want my words to travel this vicious cycle. The never ending circle of being written, stolen, reused, abused, reclaimed, given a new name, given a new author, and signed by a label. Because this is my work written with my pen and paper. I'm a paper waster.

Society Gets a Black Eye

Society raised me in a peculiar way.
I was brought up thinking the white man had it all. The money, the fame, the joy, etc.
So I scrubbed my skin in the shower to lighten my tan.
I hid my accent and learned to forget my Spanish.
I found a love for hamburgers and a distaste for refried beans.
I watched MTV and dennied my novelas.
I wanted to travel to New York and watch broadways instead of visiting my abuelita.

Society beat me in a peculiar way.
Security cameras followed me in stores.
"When did you cross the border?"
Job offers for housekeeping.
"Where did you learn to speak English so well?"
"Are you Mexican?"
I could be Puerto Rican for all you know.
I could be Native American for all you know.
I could be a gringa that spends too much money on hair dye and tanning booths.

I beat society back in a peculiar way.
The manager searched my bags and found a security tag his employer neglected to remove.
"I never crossed the border. Born and raised here. Any more ignorant questions?"
I apply for leadership roles and accept nothing less.
"English is my first language. Want to see how colorful it is cabron?"
"I am Mexican American. What the flip are you?"
I broke glass ceilings.
I rebutted stupid comments with fire.
I got higher grades than the blue-eyed, blond-hair elites.
I gave society a run for it's money.

'Till Death

When we find out things are at their worst, we put in our special order for our customized hearse.
We ask for a black coffin with red satin on the inside and extra cushion on the bottom for our backside.
We pick out our last outfit to be shown off in and practice our cold grin.
We lay down side by side and seal the wooden box so we can't hear the silent cries.
The lower we go the darker it gets.
The lower we go the more peaceful it gets.
The lower we go the more easy it gets.
The lower we go I realize we will never part.
And I really want to because you just let out a deadly fart.

BAHAHA I can't take me seriously anymore.

He punched my arm and said "Give 'em Hell."
I did more than give it, I raised it.

Sucka suckaaaaa!

I Ain't Your Maid

It was no surprise when you walked out my door because to you, loving me was some kind of chore. So I picked up your slack, swept up the dirt and hid it all under the welcome mat. Whatever. You left, leaving me with your mess. The corners you didn't dust. Misty window panes and wrinkled laundry. And you still expected me to box and label your trash for you to pick up. Not surprising. You didn't even care about me, why would your things be any different. Come get your own junk. I'm tired of doing all the work.

Jerk.

R.I.P. Stephen

Death is a peculiar thing.
I think about it when it happens to someone else.
Why?
Because that could have been me.
Should I feel ashamed that I don't think about death more?
At the moment no...
I'm too busy living.
R.I.P. Stephen
You had a great smile that was so full of life.
I hope to see you in Heaven.

I Can Be A Hopeless Romantic!

When we text...
It's the best...
We don't call or write letters,
Because everything on the internet is better.
And then we have that skype date,
and stare into the webcam until it's really late.

Helpless or Hopeless I'm a romantic.

LOL

The Man At The Well

I went to the well like everything was well.
The sun was beating down and it was hot as Hoblitzelle.
The was a man sitting tired form his journey
He asked for a drink and I thought he was very undeserving.
"You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan and a woman at that
So how can you ask me for a drink when you know of that fact?"
I'm so tired of this life. These Jewish men are causing me strife. They go to their synagogues and thank God for the condition of their birth. Born a man, conveniently higher than a woman on this earth. And here's this man asking me for water? Talking like a fool about some living water.
"Excuse me sir, you have no bucket and this well is deep. So how are you going to get this living water for me to drink?"
He's still blabbering on. What drugs is he on? Never thirsting. Eternal life. Nowa days we call that a lie but he's still trying.
"Ok I'll take your water. Only because coming to this well is such a bother."
What does he want to do with my husband?
"Sir, I have no husband..."
Wow. He knows I've had 5 guys and number 6 is just in the mean time.
"Wow. you really are a prophet."
And then I lost it.
I left my jar at the well and began to tell of the man that knew of my internal Hell.

Could this be our Christ?
The one who will win our fight?

Magnets

I'm for the Cowboys, he's for the Redskins
He calls them Cowgirls, I call them Has-beens.
Hi I'm a Mac and he's a PC
And when he has computer problems he comes and sees me.
I prefer cats and he prefers dogs
Somehow our flea circus happily gets along.
I listen to jazz, he listens to indie
I think that's his way of being a wanna be hippie.
I sleep on the right and he on the left
I guess that one worked out for the best.
I take physics he take biology
When we get together it becomes chemistry.
He sings in the shower, I sing in the rain
Obviously the things we like aren't the same.
How do we keep this relationship in tact?
We're like magnets, opposites attracts.

Bags are packed
Chips are stacked
Still some things I lack
But I'm on track
Chile, I'll be back.

Step Up

My feet know no pain.
They know no boundaries.
They know no obstacles.
The go where they are called to.

Fuerza Chile

My bags are packed. My chips are stacked. I'm leaving behind everything I lack. I'll be getting on an airplane without looking back. There will be plenty to miss and so I'll reminisce. I haven't even left and I'm already homesick. But I bet six weeks will go by quick.

Wish me luck in Chile!

Go To Church

Don't talk about what I ain't got until you walk in my flip flops. Don't tell me what I should have until you try to live with half. The meek shall inherit the earth. When I was born I was clutching on to a handful of dirt. I may be last but the last come first. You would probably know all this if you went to church.

I Have Baggage

My suitcase is huge.
Everything I own is in there.
And when I come back from Chile,
I hope to come home with less.
Less weight,
Less distractions,
Less of everything,
And more of what I need.
More love,
More patience,
More answers,
More tools.

Lines

Draw the line
Don't cross mine
But if you dare that would be fine.
Draw another parallel
So far this is working well.
Two more lines that's cross the others
And my pen remains to hover.
You circle me and I ex you out
Tic-tac-toe is what I'm about.

Pace Yourself

My mind is racing
My tears are streaming
My nose is running
You walk by at a slow pace.
My emotions seem to be winning the race.

You Cross My Mind

Marco found Polo and then became one.
Marco Polo traveled the world into his setting sun.
Marco Polo's legacy remains in the books
There are some things black and white can't show.

A World Of Ideas

There is some sort of proof that states that experiences from the past effect the outcome of a person.
Basically, I am a screwed up person.

And the worst part is...
It was all out of my control.

I'm Loosing Touch

I feel like a prisoner in my own skin.
I feel like a prisoner in my own
I feel like a prisoner in my
I feel like a prisoner in
I feel like a prisoner
I feel like a
I feel like
I feel
I

:D

We're like magnets,
opposites attract.

I thought of that in the car today. And who said I never paid attention in science class?

Let's Play a Game

Dropping from the face of the Earth,
Going back, way back beyond birth
When no one knew who I was
Or what I was made of.
You disappear and I will follow,
Marco. Polo.

A Simple Fact

He was from the other side of the equator,
I crossed over and became my people's traitor.
Never looked back, didn't even say "See you later."
My luck changed,
I had so much I was dropping change.
Abe was looking up every single time,
Waiting to dazzle that dime.
But I had mine.
He may have been from the other side of the tracks
But now that's where I'm at.

The Other Side Of The Equator

Turns out Chile is further south than I thought.
While it's summer here, it's winter there.
But you know me, always looking on the bright side.
It will be friggen cold,
But the way I see it is me shaving a whole lot less.

HOO RAH!

From Stick to Thick (LOL)

I tried on a new pair of jeans at the store,
Put them on and couldn't move anymore.
I tried on a bigger size,
But they still did not want to comply.
One more size up
and they wouldn't even stay up.

I grabbed a different brand
And realized I needed something that could expand.
I tried on a bigger size
and couldn't even get them past my thighs.
I took them off and stood in front of the mirror,
If only these designers could see my body type clearer.

The J-Lo booty can't be undone,
Thunder thighs are better than none,
Childbearing hips are way more fun,
Size 11 is the new size 1.

My Life As A Wall

The wall is a blank.
You buy paint.
Cover it from floor to ceiling,
But there is no healing.
You buy paint.
A brighter color this time,
but you forgot to prime,
You buy paint.
You prime then paint,
But you still have a complaint.
You buy paint.
You paint.
The wall is once again blank.

Venus Fly Trap

I fly by you snatch me up.
I'm trapped inside with no luck.
Then comes death shortly after,
And that's the end of this short chapter.

To See Or Not To See

Hamlet O Hamlet you bring me so much woe,
Reading your tragedy makes you my new foe.
You ask if you should be or not be,
but if it were up to me,
you would be
no more.

Thought for Food

A day without God would be like an eternity in Hell.

Back To The Future

It's like a blast from the past when I see your face.
It takes me back to the time, date, and place.
When you and I were strangers meeting on that first day
Secretly realizing you were my soul mate, my fate.
And the words played out and the actions made out
We were holding hands like that's what life was all about.
And you looked into my soul and saw what I was
Broken goods and countless flaws.
But that's what I saw, he saw me,
Someone to love endlessly.

Relapse

I put your words in a needle and shoot it up.
I get high real quick like sinner's luck.
I wanted more and more till my heart flat-lined
But I was taken away from sweet death in the nick of time.
But now you're back and so am I.
My needle's ready, now let's get high.

Let's fly.

$$$

I am the wife with hips, he was the high roller with chips.
Poor man lost his fortune now it's chips and dip.
But I still love him because money ain't a thing.
Yeah I adore him even if I'm wearing a 25 cent ring.
Smiles are priceless, gold is lifeless.
But I'm still "Your Highness" sitting on a throne of kindness.
I wear potato sack dresses and hand-me-down shirts
And if I had to do it all again he'd still be my first.

I leave it untitled just to make the kids smile,
they say I haven't written much in a while,
Well now the words are flowing like the Nile,
Call it word vomit or just straight bile.

I have bullets of ideas so bite the bullet,
Swallow it, then cool it.
Commit to it.

They said I was no poet,
I decided to forfeit.
These spooners weren't ready to fork-it.
Came back, said fork it.

Run for shelter, you were wrong
and I'm dropping bombs.
So say your alms.
The end is near...

For you anyways.
I'm just getting started.

If I told you what I thought
You'd get so lost.
I'm just THAT boss.

Now get lost.

I'm a fixer upper.
The kind you don't take home to mother.
Just the secret lover
And that's my cover.

You don't know me and I don't know you.
I don't know me or what is true.
I don't know up and I don't know down.
But I know what goes around comes around.

I guess I'm lost.
Got a GPS at a high cost.
Left the batteries at the store
Now I'm back to where I was before.

Lost and Broken.

Italian Sonnet

I shall swiftly forget your embrace.
Your kisses used to mean something,
But now your cold lips mean nothing.
Your existence has left my memory without a trace,
And your beauty has morphed into a pale face.
Goodbye, you devil of a being,
The gates of Hell you shall soon be seeing,
And I shall fill this empty space
With earth, and blood, and sweat.
I clean my hands of the muck and the mire
Carrying no sense of regret,
Just the desire to take a drag on my cigarette.
A new love is now my desire,
And my old love I shall forget.

Haiku

The roses are red
I water them every day
The violets are dead

So Siq

I throw up when you show up.
I'm so doped up...
On antibiotics.
I'm so sick of your disease,
You need to take your drama and leave,
Get me a tissue I'm about to sneeze.
*Achoo*
I'm sorry, I'm allergic to your bull.
Did you really think you could take me for a fool?
What a tool.

Taboo

I've been thinking about the lepers.
I feel bad for them.
They are shunned from society.
All I want to do is love them.

I'm Alive

My heart is breaking.
Not over a boy.
You crazy?
No boy could do this to me.
No boy is worth crying over at night.

My heart is breaking over a broken world.
And my heart is suppose to be torn up over this.
This broken heart is not meant to be fixed.

Skin & Bones

It's so easy to feel alone.
Feels like that's all I've ever known.