Author: Angel On The Edge


The wind thrust at my hair
I bring my hand up
Wipe away my tear
My hand is heavy
Why do I feel this pain?

Just sitting, thinking
My stomach drops
I feel sick, weak and drained
Drained of comfit and trust
Replace by angry and insecurities.

Why do they do it?
Cant they with strain?
He needs to be trained
So he wonít do it again
I could never look at him
Like I did
Ive lost all respect
I donít ever want to see him again.


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