Cynthia LeePieces of a Storm
Poetry by: Cynthia Lee
He lied to me. He said that all of my dreams were going to come true. He made me see the perfection in the shattered glass. He lied to me.  He said that he has changed. He told me that the past was the past. He gave me three beautiful lives. He said that he has changed.  He gave me five roses. He kneeled down and presented his lies. He made me cry and I deteriorated over and over. He gave me five roses.  He loved how I made him feel. He was proud of his trophy, his prize. He painted a glorious façade. He loved how I made him fell.  He felt powerful and masculine. He opened doors and made me smile. He yelled when tears revealed true sadness. He felt powerful and masculine.  He forced his love onto me. He would not leave at the word no. He was king and made me his queen. He forced his love onto me.  He told you he cried in heartache. He said his heart was broken but only his image. He did not like that his grandeur was tainted. He told you he cried in heartache.  He made you believe that it was me. He coerced your heart to believe the lies. He more upset of the image of fail loved. He made you believe it was me.  He wanted to damage me. He did not want anyone else to have me. He desired turmoil for me and pain. He wanted to damage me.  He lied to me. He said that all of my dreams were going to come true. He made me see the perfection in the shattered glass. He lied to me.  I am done with the lies. I know now my dreams were selfish. I stood in the glass amongst the blood-stained agony. I am done with the lies.  I knew that he didn’t change. I wanted to believe that the past was in the past. I gave my heart to give you three. I knew that he didn’t change.  I allowed you to give me five roses. I stood over my fears. I dropped two roses in my warm tears. I allowed you to give me five roses.  I hated how you made me feel. I transformed into your Mona Lisa. I cried behind my role. I hated how you made me feel.  I felt small and defeated. I lied to my rose. I was alone in my fear, isolated. I felt small and defeated.  I heard tainted stories of heartache. I was only a small blank stoke in is sunrise. I was rising to freedom in my own light.  I heard tainted stories of heartache.  I know you told them it was me not you. I left in the darkness, roses in hand. I ripped a whole in his Mona Lisa. I know you them it was me not you.  I was free, scared, and hurting. I love my roses dearly but was determined. I used my tears to water my rose. I was free, scared, and hurting.  I do not hate you anymore. I realized my mistakes and my accepted my part. I am not worried about the lies. I do not hate you anymore.  I am done with the lies. I know now my dreams were selfish. I stood in the glass amongst the blood-stained agony. I am done with the lies. -Cynthia Lee     Â
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