When will.
It end?
When will this.
Broken heart mend?

This emptiness no one else.
Can feel.
The brokenness.
That's oh, so real.

I hate it.
When people say.
Things like.
"It's going to be okay."

Because.
They're wrong.
It's not okay.
When I don't feel like I belong.

They only have.
The feeling that I crave.
Every.
Day.

Crying at 3 am.
As I let the cold air.
The light morning breeze.
Remind me that life's not fair.

As I look up at the stars.
Motionless.
It all crashes down.
Endless.