What’s Left

A weird little number that completely sums up my world…
A wound so deep it never heals
A pain so big it’s all I feel
A blade so barbed I can’t resist
My mind and body telling me to desist
A feeling so helpless I won’t listen
Making me my own assassin
What’s left but an empty shell
What’s left by your own private hell

By April Ocallaghan
Published: 5/12/2006 		Your Contributions: Tell us a Poem! You don't have to be a Buzzle.com author to contribute to Poetry Bee. Submit a poem of your own right now!
 
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