How many times can these men hurt me?
How many ways can one?
At 23 it seems to me –
that the damage has been done.

There was him and there was he,
it was either them or me.
But the greatest of the fouls and faults
became one tragedy.

My eyes have swelled with sickness.
My hands are cracked and worn.
I’ve held on tight to those unworthy;
now I need to be reborn.

Do not look for conversation.
Do not expect a stare.
All I want is to be hidden,
from these men everywhere.

Poet: Stefanie Parrott
Part Four of the #ReasonsWhyImSingle Series.


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