far too broken

are the delusions that believable
could i have made it all up in my mind
was it ever real or did I just pretend 
hopeless romantic with a desire to find


a love so true and everlasting
that i never doubt my own heart 
perhaps that is the illusion itself
the dream and fantasy all just a part


of the tale told over and over 
something to convince us to keep trying
to immerse ourselves in the warmth
that makes us come alive while we’re dying


should i continue to hold onto hope
or give up and realize its all just feigned
unwinding the threads that bound us
picking it apart until its all deveined


Echoing skepticism fill my thoughts 
cynicism takes root within my soul
i want to keep trying but my heart is
simply far too broken to be made whole