There was once a boy 
who said he loved me.
He loved me.
Loved me.
Loved. 

He loved to touch me.
He was the touchy-feely sort
Not much for violence or sports.

He loved to hold me.
As he held me, everything felt right
It was wrong, he was holding me down tight.

I gave up my hopes and dreams
As everything I did was for him
I watched my self, always afraid of making a mistake.
Or Saying something Wrøñg

There once was a boy who said I was perfect
I was perfect.
Was perfect
Was?
Perfect?
I was raised to impossible standards
My own I couldn't keep 
Now I had his too.

I had to show him I wasn't all that.
It was hard, impossible
So, I brought myseof down.
Threatened self-harm, 
Even ending my life.
To save his.

I abused myself 
To avoid his abuse
I ruined my life
To stop him from 
ruining my friend's
He said he loved her like a sister
He treated her like a robot. 
Complaints in, advice out.

He didn't love me.
I wasn't his definition of perfect
He didn't care about her.
She was his idea of therapy