Broken, beaten, lost, and torn.

Just when things start to look okay,
You turn and run.
Look at me, what have you done?

I'm broken, beaten, lost, and torn.
Why couldn't you keep what you had sworn?
I'll take this time to let you mourn,
For it is you why my demise if born.
Still, all you show is scorn.

I can't be here much longer;
The say pain makes you stronger.
Yet, all my pain does is weaken me.

Please just try,
No more will I cry.
At least until we die.

Poem by WVCIII

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