Poem, "I’ve been told to hang on, But what is there to hold on to?..."
But what is there to hold on to?
For the razors, the knives, and countless lies?
For the secrets, the loss’s, and the sickly cries?
These are not mine to hoard around.
Just simple bait to take me down.
And though I’ve learned she will not heal.
I’ve stayed around denying its real.
But now my thoughts have started to clear.
From all the false memories I held so dear.
With a deep breath I walk away.
Fighting the urge to come back and stay.
Now she tells me to hang on,
But how can I when I never had anything to hold on to?