I, who once loved you.
She held a rose in her hand.
A wilted one a best,
Its death she couldn't mend.
He who gifted upon her,
The rose, and who taught her
The pains of the world,
Paid no heed to her cries for help,
Instead he drowned her time and again,
Molded her to his will,
All until she was still.
He loved her,
Or so she believed.
His words told her so,
His intention was to deceive.
He loved her like no one ever would,
For he was her world,
A world made from false pretense,
A world which could collapse at his will.
She was made to believe that
A human like her should not feel.
But she is human, is she not?
The times she remembered,
Was him,
Smiling at her, while telling her to,
Let go of the child.
Smiling at her, while telling her to,
Go ahead and die.
Laughing at her, while watching her
Scream helplessly on the ground.
He taught her a love that no one should ever feel.
Least of all it breaks their mind.
And how my heart aches for her time and again.
But how could I ever save her from the ruins she has long built around herself?
Janelle.
