Torn

  Foraging inside my brain for the thing that left the stain.

Rooting around inside my head for the thing that pissed my bed.

 

Wandering inside my mind for everything I cannot find.

Wondering inside of me for the one thing I used to be.

 

I don't know where I went but I'm not here, I'm twisted, bent.

I know that I'm not coming back even if my bags they pack.

 

Wrapped up neatly little parcels, my memories inside.

Torn asunder, little presents, my memories to hide.

 

I'm torn, I'm twisted, I'm broken, battered, but I will mend.

I'm dying, I'm bleeding, I'm tired, pleeding, but this will end.

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

Love the last stanza for sure.

[Ripple of Aqua]

I like how you give the idea that they basically invaded you, scowering through your head, just to tick you off, and then invading your soul for the hell of it. Shows the anger and the awareness that you have of this person.

[...]

Good expression and I like the way you tied it all together with the ending.