At the advice of a fellow Protag member, I dug deep and gave this one a shot.
So you want me to open my heart,
Dig through the veins and arteries,
Covering my hands in cold blood,
Until I find something meaningful,
Worthy of telling the whole world.
Perhaps I could pick forgotten scars,
Of an ex-girlfriend who stole my dignity.
Remember how she made me feel,
A part of me she managed to steal.
Brittle imprint on my soul feels real.
Or have we all been here before?
And whilst each heartbreak is unique,
The material offered is hardly fresh,
While memories offer such misery,
Dare I dig deeper until I find a nerve?
Times spent spiralling off in the night,
Dedicated drinking with fakest of smiles,
Wishing I could feel this happy sober,
Cruel self-loathing through a hangover,
Next weekend we will do it all over.
We also have tales of never growing up,
People called me the Cotton Wool Kid,
How about the ways my voice gets stuck,
Down my throat when I fancy someone,
So sonnets of affection come out a croak.
I have so many issues I could bleed out,
Lay on a plate and serve for consumption,
But nobody cares for the shell left behind,
The hollow body that once burst vitality,
He will carry on in this fashion regardless.