Inside I Refuse.

Sometimes I break my heart on purpose.
I’d be comforted knowing I still feel.
That I haven’t completely desensitized myself yet.
I want to fool myself into thinking I’m not just existing.
I want to feel my soul shatter
disperse in the wind.
Trying to attach itself to fragments of
or pieces of ideas.
Maybe if they reunite, I could gather them
all up and rid myself of them.
I’d be able to put them out into the world and
quite possibly be labelled a genius. A prodigy.
The eighth wonder of the world. Or more likely,
a psychopath. A despicable entity.
Something that should be kept far away from society.
Either way I can’t.
Inside I refuse.

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