by PerlaD

Alone in the dark since I lost control,
And I don’t seem to find my shine.
To the devil in ignorance I sold my soul--
He whispered, "you'll be mine."

I don't really know my way anymore;
At each turn, I end up lost.
Whatever I do, I'm never quite sure
Of my genuine value or cost.

I long to feel safe--I need something sure:
My home, my family, my friends.
But darkness has buried my will to stay pure,
And my breath on the devil depends.

I'm not one of those stuck in denial,
Pretending it's all okay.
One finger's broken on life's time dial--
Time I can never persuade.

"It's easier on everyone if I stay out of sight,"
I tell myself in this self-dug hole,
Honestly searching for that once-bright light
The devil so deviously stole.

I know how to do it. I know where to go--
But where is the will to start?
Why do I hurt, and punish me so?
Yet cannot from the devil depart.

From the youngest age, I was a warrior bold,
Proud to say "no," unshaken.
No matter what memories the past may hold,
I was soft as snow, a young maiden.

My heart was big, so easy to break--
I just wanted the world to see
That I was real, and far from fake,
With dreams so innocent, so free.

But people tend to shatter the kind,
And in this world, no one's safe.
Too trusting of others, too lies-blind--
The ignorance of a newborn waif.

I might have been simple, blue-eyed at times,
But honest and pure, indeed--
Raised with loose morals, drawn into crimes,
With no true reason or need.

No guidance given, no warning in speech,
No consequence in the air.
No structure, no care,hopes hard to reach
No defense is hard to bear.

My eyes were closed for far too long--
I didn't dare to see.
Until I sat down and turned pain into song,
And wished not for death, but to be.

I have to slow down for my story to last,
the pain of what I've been through
Makes it hard for me to forget the past
And stay genuine and true

To work through trauma, truly try
And rise from sorrow and shame.
I'm tired of wishing that I would just die,
And the need for my past to blame.

There are no winners in a "loose or tie,"
Only those who rise from pain.
So now i don’t live in the whispers of lie
And start to enjoy the rain

A beautiful person can quickly turn black
as masks are pulled off in layers
and a “friend” that promised to have your back
just as quickly becomes your slayer.

Be careful who you give your heart—
most people don’t really need it.
They achieve their goal with a rotten start
and to friendship completely unfit.

Amazing the fact, that such exists
when honesty attracts the loyal
but kindness kindles the narcissist
that behaves like they are royal.

Perfect person uses the perfect word
Only to reel you in.
Their beauty is a ****** sword
that cuts you from within.

Be careful love, not all are friends—
some just dare to use you
and teach you how that concept bends
when you see them at the breakthrough.

I saw a woman in a broken mirror—
She seemed peculiar, distant, strange.
I instantly remembered I can’t forget her;
She cut all forgiveness out of range.

Curiously, I gazed at sharp glass edges,
Wondered and pondered about how and why.
And all of a sudden, my reality stretches—
I realized why I could never try.

The woman in the mirror wasn’t whole,
A broken image—impossible to puzzle.
Dire darkness her childhood stole,
So she, herself, learned to hustle.

The longer I stood staring at the glass,
I saw a different image emerge.
And even as broken as she was,
I had to stay—and try to converse.

Was it in my best interest or was it hers?
Either way, I couldn’t turn away.
I saw her cry, so I dried her tears,
With perfect and raw dismay.

I tried to back off to better see—
To my frustration and disbelief—
I had to face it: the woman in the mirror and me
Are one—not two—broken easily.

So I picked up the pieces one by one
And tried to put them back together,
Facing a lifetime of what I had done,
Healing—and learning to forgive her.

Now the mirror is almost whole,
And the woman isn’t crying.
We reclaimed what the past had stole—
With urge to live instead of dying.