You knew you’d hurt me in the end.
You had the choice, but you walked the path.
You painted the picture, designed the aftermath.
Knowing that you’d be sheltered from the fallout,
From what remained. But still, I have my lingering doubts
If there was even a single day when you loved me
Or was it all a clever charade. Was I a fool to believe?
Was I the victim from the start
Your chosen weapon, a wound to my heart.
You knew you’d hurt me in the end.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 
At the mercy of, someone, else’s, behaviors…
LikeLike
Damn, this is some powerful writing.
LikeLike
This is a absolutely powerful expression.
LikeLike