This feeling hurts.

Every time I am reminded, I feel a pain in my heart.

A deep, excruciating sensation that makes me want to burst into tears.

This intensity stays burrowed deep inside.

Like a sleeping volcano, the bubbling liquid fire is always at the cusp of erupting.

I long for more, for what was, for what could be.

But I am helpless to the reality.

And so this wound festers and becomes infected.

I scrape away the puss, hoping that some form of antibiotic can cure it.

If only I could be rid of this illness.

This ever relentless contamination of sentiments unrequited.

Maybe lobotomize the section of brain that controls emotion.

How much better I would feel,

If all I felt was blah.


*Prompt is : Blah






3 thoughts on “Lobotomy

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