Betrayal
Stab me in my heart
And twist it all around-
It cannot be worse
Than this pain I've found.
I built up these walls
And you tore them down-
I gave you my heart-
You threw it on the ground.
My heart is broken,
Scattered all around-
A million pieces
That can't be found.
What is this pain
That does now abound-
What are these tears
That keep pouring down?
Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Dreams | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| End My Pain | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| Touched by an Angel | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| To Whom it Concerns | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| Why the Game? | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| once | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| San Francisco | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| You or Me? | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| Betrayal | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| Unless | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| Lady Anne | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
| The Girl *some changes from original version | -3 | 05/20/2009 |
| My Child | 0 | 05/20/2009 |
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.