It's funny how long it took me, 

To unravel myself. 

Crawling through twenty years

Of this personal hell. 

Now my hands are bloody

And my knees all bruised;

My body shook with silent sobs

As I stood by the lake to end it all. 

I lived for those who didn't care

And turned my back on those who did. 

Now it's too late to turn back time

And fix the past. 

I've found poetry as my sole escape

To voice my broken thoughts. 

A reflection of the hell I faced 

An outlet to let out a silent cry. 

It portrays the emptiness of lost love, 

The dying hope of a faithful lover. 

A journey that started with flashes of roses, 

And led me to thorns unexpected.