Her Hurt

When the one you love most is getting hurt,

what do you do?

I knew her the best; we spent so much time together,

it's impossible anyone surpassed our closeness.

We were sisters by chance, and best friends for life.


She didn't know she was getting hurt

and that's what troubled me.

He meant so much to her

when he stole the titles of her 'firsts'.


I told her over and over:

he's just there to play,

he doesn't mean the kind things he says, 

he's no good for you.

She refused to listen.


And when others began catching on,

she turned away from home.

You're spreading things, she claimed,

I'm trying to help you, I protested.

We sat in different rooms, but cried about the same person.


Then, when he finally did what I knew he would do,

I didn't laugh,

I didn't gloat,

I didn't say 'I told you so'.


She needed that.


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This poem is about: 
My family


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