Poetry Blogs (abusive)

This make-believe story I predicted in my head,

To pieces upon the ground does it fall.

A happiness once experienced -

A security long gone,

And a father I had imagined -

Now a memory in which I had created.

But, the hurt inside is real -

All torn up, how does my heart continue to beat?

A trauma of the past -

Why must I remember what I wish not to?

I created...

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