The bleak body

Plunging into the abyss
Of your pretend security,
Blanketing the truth
Of your own pain,
From me.
I handed you just myself,
My soul,
My heart.
And you trampled it
Like an egg.
Cracking right down the centre
of hollow thoughts
And empty promises.
Just for your own satisfaction,
And mine.
Which was only you,
And that was enough.

This poem is about: 
Me

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