I’m not a toy to be played with, become bored, then discarded.

Can’t even say good morning, this mess is retarded.

I fail to see love in those brown eyes reflecting back at me.

I see a tired soul that bent, but never breaking me.

I feel disgusted guilty, ashamed, blaming myself only.

Where did my self-confidence and pride go?

Hand in hand along with my dignity, it hit the door.

I’m still in the car, so I must want more.

Keys now in his hands, not as strong as I was before.

No real laughter or happiness, he stole my joy.

God save us from ourselves.

Help us close this chapter, put the book on the shelf.

We’re mortal enemies to each other and ourselves.

Blocking our own blessings, hurting you and myself.

What’s going to stop this one-way trip to Hell?

I never thought I would be played with like a toy, now empty shell.

Scraped, bruised, battered, used and misused.

I’ve paid Karma’s tax, paid restitution for allowing myself to be used.

At the end of the day, I am what I allow and feed.

No longer going to be a toy to feed your selfish needs.

It’s a fine time to upgrade from toy to trophy.

Whether that is alone, or with you beside me.


This poem is about: 
My family


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