unspeak

My heart is wrenched from within me,
It refuses to be comforted.

Are the things said wrongly said,
Or they shouldn't have been said at all?

Why am I required to speak,
When my silence would do us good?

Why are honesty seeked,
If it hurts so well?

Why should we talk,
When there's nothing to be said,
Except for a pool of emotions,
Laying dormant, lying hidden;
Unconveyed, incommunicated?

Why do we force a chat,
And say all the wrong things?

Can we not speak with silence,
Can we not talk without words?

My heart is wrenched from within me,
It refuses to be comforted.

Sleepless nights are to be expected,
Worries and anxieties, rejoices.

My heart is wrenched from within me,
It refuses to be comforted.

Why is it honestly spoken,
When it is bound to hurt?

Why do we even want to know,
When we understand the possibility of being hurt,
When we understand the possibility of being sad.

Will the regrets of not knowing,
Be harder to bear?

Curiosity kills the cat,
But to not know, regret.

My heart is wrenched from within me,
It refuses to be comforted.