Awakened to a world of hurt,
with a mouth of mud and flavored dirt.
A heart that all but lives to lurch,
a spit of bloodless splatter.
Born of mourn to sit in pain,
wanting now to not remain.
Death and me it seems the same,
lost for patients pity.
Lies and all or nothing else,
hatred deep for you myself.
Cast me out for whats not felt,
unspoken heart of broken...
saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unspoken-heart-of-broken/