To Hurt

To Hurt
[Impromptu poem, Original on Live & Dictate]

How was it possible for a broken,
shattered,
twisted,
battered heart to feel hurt?
As though it could be hurt any further.
As though it could be pained any more.

I tried not to base my thoughts on him.
I tried.
I knew at some point or another that it was not
love,
but an obsession that I became entombed within.
Yet that obsession breaks me.

To stalk every movement of his,
to compute every breath he took,
to watch him with half-crazed, deranged eyes
but yet to feel no love.
To feel as though he who belonged to me was trying to break

free.

I hurt.
Sometimes it feels that I hurt for the sake of hurting,
and he was only an excuse for me to
wallow in my own pain,
and pity.
Maybe I was just hurt by the world I live in.

Maybe, just maybe, I can't even trust myself.
Nor anyone else.

Broken.
I knew then I was broken
beyond repair.