In the midst of worldly tumult
Where troubles never cease,
I find my solace in the words
To attain a sense of inner peace.
Some seek refuge in a glass,
Or other fleeting thrills,
I wield my pen to extract my woes
And convert them into a quill.
For when my soul is torn apart,
And anguish grips my mind,
I turn to writing as my balm,
And solace I can find.
I wasn't born a poet,
But life has carved its way,
Into my heart, my mind, and my soul,
And left its marks to stay.
So I'll keep penning through the night,
My pain, my joy, my strife,
For every word that flows from me,
Is a celebration of life.

She wanted love so badly,
She let him treat her wrong,
Belittling her, hitting her,
She tried to be strong.

She thought she could change him,
That her love would make him see,
But his words cut like a knife,
Leaving her feeling empty.

She gave him chance after chance,
Hoping he'd see the light,
But he only took advantage,
Taking pleasure in her plight.

Her heart was shattered,
But she still held on,
Thinking love would conquer all,
Until the bitter end was drawn.

She finally found the strength,
To break free from his grasp,
Leaving behind the pain and hurt,
And starting anew at last.

She learned a valuable lesson,
That love shouldn't hurt this way,
And she vowed to never again,
Let someone treat her that way.