luvlyarrhythmia's Journal

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To tell a truth, How horrible!
But yet it’s like confession.
You trust someone because of choice,
And not out of concession.

And in your trust you become a target,
Maybe for ridicule or shame.
But innocence can’t launch an attack,
And therefore harbors no blame.

Perhaps a pointed pity,
Might seek to stab your heart.
How carefully it punctures,
Hoping to only vanquish one part.

But alas it tears and renders flesh,
The pieces scatter far,
And if it finds the malignancy,
The pity has left it’s own scar.

A foul emotion, pity is
A gleaming, double-edged sword.
Sometimes cutting the giver in the eyes of their prey,
Sometimes a curse, and not a reward.