Every scathing word you uttered
Leaving a scar on my heart.
Every time you sniggered
Taunting me; a doormat.
You might've been the assailant
Holding the serrated blade
But 'twas my silent consent
That allowed you to invade.
But this viscous cycle of misery
Would hence forth leave no stain
For you were ne'er the villain of my story.
I was my own bane.
Today, you can just glower
But your bark holds no bite,
For have I taken my power
As I stand tall with all my might.
YOU ARE READING
Still, a thousand leagues to go...
PoetryPoetry is the most constructive conduit to let out your feelings, My pain, anger, hurt and joy... Previously known as 'Verity'
