I understand that music soothes the soul,
But you didn't have to make me your instrument.
The way you plucked at my strings damaged me deeply.
You used my melody to heal yourself,
Leaving me utterly broken.
My strings have snapped,
My wires coiling like a snake,
Wild and lost.
Who will be there to fix my strings?
To tune my sound?
YOU ARE READING
Bruised
Poetry"You poisoned me with your potion, Hexed me with your love and devotion. Now I lay in pieces, broken and brittle." Bruised is a poetry collection for the broken hearts and disappointed souls. It speaks words of wisdom, words of pain, and words of ad...
