She came like a whisper, soft in the dark,
Painted in promises, leaving no mark.
But lies wear boots, and hers stomped loud—
Through my heart, my home, my every vow.
She didn’t just leave — she razed the place,
Took the laughter, left a hollow space.
Friends turned silent, backs like stone—
She rewrote the truth and called it her own.
My children’s eyes don’t look the same,
She poisoned the well, then blamed my name.
Told them stories soaked in spite,
Tucked them in with twisted lies at night.
She smiled while taking every thread—
Of the woman I was, now half-dead.
She left me with echoes, dust, and rage,
A ghost locked screaming in my cage.
I hate her voice, her scent, her face,
The way she danced through my disgrace.
She wore love like a wolf in skin,
And carved her initials deep within.
But hate’s a fire, and I won’t burn,
Not for her, not for what I yearn.
She took everything—but not this pen,
And with it, I will rise again.