Dingy Love
  • Reads 106
  • Votes 23
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
  • Reads 106
  • Votes 23
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
Complete, First published Jan 28, 2015
The worst thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemy.
When you realize your own loved people whom you admired day and night, the one about whom you couldn't start or end your day without thinking first and the one for whom your heart always ached, had kept  backstabbing you, it will crush you into pieces. It will tear you apart. Darkness will haunt you and for a time you will be afraid to see the light.  However, at some point realization will hit you. From those broken pieces a new 'you' will be reformed that will be more tough , understanding and experienced much more. This is one of those poems that deals with heartbreak, realization, gratefulness and hope.
#323 in poetry (3.5.2015) 
#299 in poetry (7.5.2015)
#275 in poetry (8.5.2015)
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I grew up in a broken home, where words were weapons-sharper than any blade, leaving invisible scars that cut deeper than any physical wound. Actions followed suit, leaving me battered, bruised, and broken. Pain wasn't a fleeting visitor-it was my constant companion. The blood that stained my skin became a cruel reminder of the endless struggles I was forced to endure. Rejection wasn't just something I felt-it was an unrelenting force that stalked me, whether at home, in the cold halls of school, or in the deafening silence of my own mind. I was convinced that I was worthless, unlovable, and destined to a life of torment. Then, something changed-or so I thought. I met people who seemed different. For the first time, I wasn't just seen as the shattered girl I had become. They looked past the surface scars, both the ones I wore openly and the ones buried deep within me, offering kindness in a world that had forgotten it existed. I let myself believe in their words and actions, allowing a small flame of hope to flicker inside me. Slowly, piece by piece, I began to rebuild myself, grasping at any sense of normalcy I could find. I convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, my pain didn't define me. But in the end, I was wrong about them. They, too, left me broken. This is my journey-surviving the violence of words and actions, fighting through abuse and rejection, and still finding the strength to rise. Even in the darkest moments, when it feels like there's nothing left, I fought through the pain, piece by piece, until I finally found my worth.
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Shattered, hurt, heart broken, regret! That's all I could think about as I lay outside the home that I once shared with the man I once lovedβ€Ό?? Read to find out...