You are not who you made me believe you were. What you shared about your past was ALL lies! You got me to tell you my dreams and then said yours were the same. You worked so hard at being something you’re not, and for what? To get into my pants?  You’re a FAKE!  D.B.

How can it be
That you can’t see me?
I stand before your non-seeing eyes
With blood on my wrists and begin to cry.
I run to the comforting corner between the walls.
I cannot take this hurt, these lies; not at all.
How can it be
That I’m on my own, but still not free?
From an on-line poem – author noted only as “justjosie”