We are just groups of words
separated by commas
we are just dreams in our own heads
we are concepts
we are tears
and the reasons behind them
we
rage
we
cry
we...
give up
we break our own hearts
and give them away
to be stitched up
and hope
it's enough
our scars are invisible
or marked across our wrists
we hate them
we love them
we search to find out
why we are here
and how we can escape
make us
break us
it's all the same
the commas
have turned into periods
we stop
right where we started
one-word sentences
of bitter words
we start again
if only
to someday
end