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

Poem

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