My eyes
won't be able to sense
pain this time

My soul
won't be able to bear it,
When you'll leave at last.....
This time

My lungs
won't be able to
Pump air this time.....

My heart
is already withered
It will stop this time......

My mind
is already tired from grieve
Tired of finding answer....

My pen tip will break
and pages will scribble
This time

And today or tomorrow you'll leave so better be today
Leave me with my cold heart and dryed up eyes

Cause trash is meant to be left in the end..........

© poethesis_