Words.

Women.

I walk on a path made of fire, broken glass and my old happiness.

I make a way for the ones that follow, I am not the only one.

The train of broken and battered women lead to an arena and we all take seats and watch as the lions tear apart the ones who have done is wrong.

If you listen closely, you can hear laughter coming from the crowd.

There's pain in every step and tears staining our eyes like blood once did our hearts before our entire lives were ripped apart.

We prayed that the ones we once loved were alright and okay, now we're watching from the balcony hoping that the lions don't decide to be merciful, like we were to those people.

Those people that no longer have hearts or souls. Those people that you told all your secrets to and now they can't be untold. You're playing poker with demons and you're about to fold. Throw in your hand before the game gets old because when it does, you'll be tossed out onto the streets.

I walked that same path everyday, bringing new women the same way to get to the same place and watch the same show and they still laugh.

Be gentle to these women because you will not be warned.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.