PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Do I want to rant? Or do I want to write a poem? A pretty poem? Likely not. Two pretty poems have I
written in my life and two pretty boys have turned to dust. Memories and ashes are all I have left of them. It just so happens that every time I pry apart my ribcage and expose my pulsating red heart to a man he reaches his hand inside and rips it from its perch, stares at it, confused by it, tilts his head to the side and eats it whole in one gleaming white chomp. Licking his lips he watches me crumble, lifeless to the floor. Does this bother him? No, Never. It seems as though I'm the only living being with feelings in this whole god foresaken world. Well not anymore my friend. My emotion center has been temporarily disabled. And by temporary I mean until further noticeI've always wondered for how long you could wander around aimlessly with no concievable emotion...a long time. From the moment I was born person after person after person have been walking by and handing out violent kicks to my chakra, each kick making me colder and colder and colder. How cold can one get before they turn completely numb? I'm pretty close, I'll let you know when the day comes. No this isn't self pity or loathing, this is humanity. Everyone becomes numb eventually. I'm just patiently waiting in line for my turn. Atleast being numb would be easier. Once I'm numb I can accomplish anything.