Get Your Premium Membership

Many Before

I guess it’s a pattern now. I get my hopes up, think you’ll save me. But in reality, you’re just like him. Unkind, Uncaring. Mean. It’s not so new. Breaking hearts has existed many and many years before. And you weren’t the first to break mine. It hurts most the first time. If you go through being killed once, A small stab from a knife won’t hurt you.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things