Broken Doll.

When you're not around, I feel like my limbs have been amputated. I am a puzzle that refuses to come undone. But whenever you're near, I can't help but feel frustrated. You were my greatest contender, not willing to be outdone. I thought that I'd been vindicated, when I made the effort to show that I have changed. Instead you pad my walls, and leave me in restraints as if I am vehemently deranged. My sun will rise again, as your flowers wilt from guilt. My castles will touch the sky, as you procrastinate on the ones in your head that you have yet to build. Ambition emanates from my pores, I exude it like the cherry tree that blossoms in the spring. You still refuse to believe that I have nothing up my sleeve. Like a prisoner on death row finally granted his reprieve. My last meal consisted of food that tasted like our love. I ate in silence as I repeated the Lord's prayer to God above. I berated Him for my weakness, for the life I left unfinished. I lamented for the light in my eyes that had entirely diminished. In my next incarnation, I will not make the same mistakes. I will always remember that the love you give should be equal to that you take. No longer selfish, in a world primarily inspired by hate. I will contemplate before I use my pen to write my fate. It will be wondrous, full of joy and cheer; another life lived to the fullest with my loved ones near. You will reattach yourself to me, with glee, no longer the separated limb of a crooked amputee.