Untitled, Help me with the title? Options

[Sa-Chan]

A poem, it combines some of my old works as well as new.


Untitled
By: Savannah Harrison


Tear apart my weakened heart,
But be content knowing I will watch.
I will see each sharpened motion,
As you destroy me part by part.

And I hear the angel's song,
Ever so painfully beautiful.
But Heaven's not my destination,
Goodbye, and so long.

My mind is on the verge,
My memories become disturbed.
You stole away my innocent,
The day you made our bodies merge.

The words you said were law,
I did as always told.
I went to many places,
I came, but never saw.

Every single word you said,
Was as putrid as a poison.
Every single rotten lie,
Were the words that I was fed.

And you said that you loved me,
That this feeling never dies,
But you hate me like I crave you,
And a good f*ck is on your mind.

So, I cry and I cry,
Straight into the lonely night.
I wonder if I cry while dream,
My feelings aren't what they seem.

I guess I shouldn't blame you,
It's not like it was your fault.
Apparently I did you wrong,
But my mistakes are nothing new.

You've taken this much better,
Then I thought that I ever could.
When I speak I never feel,
I just pour my soul away into my letters.

I think I might be dead,
This numb feeling never dissapates.
I cut, but do not hurt,
My heart is cold and hard like lead.

I can stare blankly at the world,
I'm talented at speaking how I do not feel.
I slit my wrists in bathtubs,
Laying fetal, bleeding in the water, curled.

To my face you call me baby,
To mask the sick way you scream for me.
It's one or the other,
Either always, or sometimes maybe.

Your lips of red,
And ever so thinly spread.
Cause such burning pain,
To my poor, flushed skin.

I used to know every inch of your face,
The way you smiled only for me.
I hear your voice from time to time,
But my memory is hidden, wrapped in silver lace.

Maybe heartbreak is my fate,
And I lose hope at an average rate.
You drive me to the point I sometimes break,
You don't realize, this is all I can take.

So, here's a rhyme, to stifle your fun,
I'll end my life, without your love.
Like a bed of red roses,
There's a dozen reasons in this gun.

So pull the trigger to my life,
My world was what you made of it.
You came to have a good time,
Now, I beg, end my anger and my strife.

[TheSilenceInDict...]

I don't think you should allow people to choose the title for your poem.
You, and only you should pick it out.
If you're stumped for one, a lot of people leave many of their pieces untitled.