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So many mistakes that I’ve made hoping that next time no hearts are broken. I’ve been left choking on the words I’ve spoken in vane.

It’s insane the time I’ve wasted and the tears I’ve cried and tasted, while I have tried to make it through the pain.

The pain is self inflicted, it seems that I’m addicted to the tragedy that comes from no control.

Hollow and hurting I will wallow in this dirt and I have heaped upon my self with no restraint.

Yet I keep the shovel close with my eyes blinded to the fact that I just need to change my life and know I can’t.

Everyone around me says they know that I could change if only I would try a little harder.

Every time I try to, the demons that I’m fighting rear their head and bite their teeth a little further.

There is no blood that is left dripping from the sounds that I am given, but the pain that’s felt is ripping me apart.

Although the pain’s not felt at first because the venom that is squirted makes you forget the hurt and hardened hearts.

When the pain does come it feels like bullets from a gun because it hits you all at once and burns and tears.

Numb and unfeeling at first now I am feeling all the hurt because for once now I am sober and aware.

The clarity is crystal while the pain shoots from a pistol that’s fully automatic and stays loaded.

The shocks continue coming and I know there’s no use running because my fingers on the trigger and I pulled it.

See all poetry for Nicholas Shuck #06662-010