You said you loved me,
That you cared for me.
Then you cut me,
You burnt me,
You skinned me,
And then you spat on me.
'Tough Love' you called it,
Maybe if I were brave,
I would believe it.
But I am weak,
I am slow,
I am stupid,
I am torn.
Not because you said so,
But because I let you say so.
I let you hold me,
I let you love me,
I let you kiss me.
Then I let you beat me,
I let you cut me,
I let you hurt me.
I should've seen what you were sooner,
I should've told someone something before I got hurt,
I should've done a thousand things better than before.
Maybe if I had realised what you were,
And left you where you stood,
I would be happier.
But I let you manipulate me,
With your silver tongue,
Leaving letters dancing on my skin,
Like gin and rum.
Naive and young, you called me,
I was, now I see.
Because if I had seen what you were before,
You would not be dead on my floor.
YOU ARE READING
Symphony Of Sorrow
PoetrySome people say it is better to have love and lost, than to have never loved at all. But when that love is gone, you realise it would have been better if you hadn't met them after all. For nothing lasts forever, No love stands forever, And no lo...
