No more
What once was true is true no more my love for you is like that of a whore I gave and I gave and you took and you took until all what was left was a broken shelf holding one book ,and in this book it is written my hatred ,my lies ,my blood ,my cries,my ache , my pain all in all nothing but disdain, now free of your claws I can finally breath,it's like seeing a warm light before the final fade away.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: