let me know what ya think

I have foolishly given my heart away once again. Only to be taken and put in a meat grinder. I am so sick and tired of the feelings love brings me. Well it’s not so much love itself as the anger and hatred, and self loathing that follows. So here’s a taste of what I’m feeling like day in and day out lately. There’s a feeling inside me that builds and builds growing larger each time its taunted and provoked. An anger that once consumed me, but has been held back, restrained even for some time now. Slowly , gradually adding more and more reason to break free, and consume me once more. I’ve had enough, this is the last straw. The balance in the center that keeps my rage at bay has been unstoppably altered, and for the worse. a shadow where my heart once was. not just any shadow, a shadow that is something, more then just a shadow, it has texture, feeling, and is full of hatred and anger. You cant touch a shadow, feel a texture, sense a feeling as dark and spiteful as I’ve described. Only it’s happening right now, inside of me…I wish I could do something to stop it, but I in turn was the one that made it so. Thus I can not possibly find a solution and therefore I will forever be plagued by my thoughts, my heart , and my tears. Any time my mind has where it’s unused even for a second it jumps to the thoughts I try so hard to hide from. Thinking and trying to concentrate on things only helps it consume me faster. There are times when I feel like I can see the shadows creeping over me, as if I can feel my mind surrendering itself to the nothingness that was always there, only kept contained. My eye lids grow heavy and my legs grow weak, for I fear sleep, because in my dreams I seem to have no control. The unrelenting pressure behind my eyes urges me to stay awake, begs me to. It would seem that part of me knows that its almost over. That soon this will end and no longer be able to torture me, and hurt those I come in contact with. I feel a sense of obligation to finish this. Only because I honestly feel as if the one I care so much about, the woman I love, will be rid of me forever. Free of my jealousy and anger. I just hope she knows I really did love her, and that I am sincerely sorry for all I’ve done. I’ve written a poem, that at the time I didn’t grasp entirely what it meant. I mean there’s the obvious, exactly what the words say, but a writer or artist make something not to be obvious, but to have the audience walk a day in our shoes so to speak. Now that I’ve had this collapse of all that I was I see what really was behind the obvious, and it really means something to me now. I don’t expect many to see past the obvious, but for those of you who do, thank you: