It is not your fault

User

how old could she have been, that girl

when she began to catch their eyes

how old could she have been, that girl

when they began feeding her lies

 

when she listened to the masses

when she was good and sweet

when she followed all their rules and lines

when she finally felt complete

 

when she measured all her dresses

and spoke just like a rose

when she left her dinner on the table

and just laid their and froze

 

she thought that she had won the game

that reward would soon ensue

That surely something had to come

from keeping pure and true

 

Prince Charming came but in the form

Of all her hopes and dreams

and they had told her, getting older

that his love was all she needs

 

but on the day that love had died

that nightmares can’t predict

she knew the crown would never come

that she was conned and tricked

 

“but if that is love” she thought and thought

“keep it away from me

if that is love I’d like to see

what hating me can be”

 

and from then on she suffered in silence

for she’d be called a liar

she was a victim of the cruelest violence

and it lit her body on fire

 

  • Author: User (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 16th, 2021 02:04
  • Comment from author about the poem: Trigger warning: implied sexual violence
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 26
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Comments3

  • User

    I know there are a few typos, I wasn’t very careful. I just wanted to get it out of me

  • L. B. Mek

    love is important, essential maybe
    but, it isn't All
    that there is, we can still exist and thrive without it
    if fate has so decreed, for us..
    but the key, is we don't align
    Love: with the Who, we loved..
    that's like blaming the fork, for the food, that's poisoned us?
    it doesn't work that way, instead
    we need to insure that fork is, cleansed of all that past experience, and ready to be utilised
    if we're ever gifted another opportunity
    at experiencing that nourishing - touch, of true love..
    (an impassioned write, thanks for sharing)

  • Doggerel Dave

    Jilly, you are a hard one to fathom. Your three poems registered here, which cover a period of three to four years, appear about roses in perfect plastic and real roses in death throes?; parental neglect? And domestic violence resulting from the socialisation which lead the subject into that situation.

    They are neat, structured, but enigmatic. Who are you? (context please).



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