Untitled p.13

I’m a walking dead woman waiting for her
demise. Nothing but the reflection of yourself;
done wrong in your eyes
because mistakes are like hurricanes not yet
to be calmed
blowing through life in the storm of the young.

Love is a word you have yet to learn how to
express
you like to think you’re doing well but you
know you’re a mess.

I’d admit I’m falling to pieces with debris
in my heart
if you’d try to believe I have reasons for my
new start.

The world is small and seems turned
against me now
just because I can’t ever see how something
will turn out.

I used to love him, mom, I really thought
I did before
but you have to understand all I have
is hate any longer.

Don’t take a woman’s pride and violate her
self-worth
then expect unconditional, undying love in return.

My hurt and my confusions isn’t something
I could just will away.

And my refusal to talk about it and push
it doesn’t make it fake.

I’m traumatized but you don’t believe me you
always thought I was selfish.

But my nightmares will haunt you someday
when it finally sinks in.

I’ll always love you but I’m not a
songbird in a cage.

Your desire to please others is not something
I forgave.

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