Manipulated.  Used.  *****.
Three words that describe
The level of my pride
That has been completely defeated.

Men are cunning little creatures.
You let your guard down once,
Your values are shattered,  
And you watch yourself scatter to recover the pieces.

You try and try
To leave the past behind
But memories are constant reminders.

Smells.  Touches. Sounds.
Three senses that haunt me, body and soul.
I wish to clear my mind, but my thoughts still run cold.  

Will I gain courage? Will I ever find peace?  Or will I constantly cower? Three questions and thoughts that seem to hold so much power.

Me. Me. Me. I need to be my main priority. Can I do it? Am I brave enough to be?

Will I fight my fears that I've gained these years? Could I even control the hate?

Faith, Hope, and God
Three last words
that ultimately decide my fate.

I have often wondered, why fate draws us in some way. My opinion of the matter is one of pure dismay.

Did you think that it would be easy? That this was all a game? I hope your happy with your choices. Unlike me, I'm still ashamed.

To this day I have stayed terrified. Knowing you're the reason why. Trying not to think of you isn't easy. I would rather sulk and cry.

I will get over you someday. God knows how hard I'll try. It will rip my heart to pieces. My emotions will have died.

I pray that every girl you betray, will sense your vile, pernicious ways. May they treat you with pure, rotten disgust, so then your heart will finally combust.

Maybe then you will see, how your torture has affected me.