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?
Wednesday 6th July 2016 10:44 pm