Blinded

The moment I mention his name,

Like the silence of the dreams they haven't yet killed,

The room becomes quiet and still.

Their words like whips

"CRACKS!" start to fill the room

Slicing gashes on my heart.

They associate his name with words like promiscuity and licentious.

They warn me that he is the monster that lays in girls' beds at night.

The bad guy I've only seen in movies and read about in books

"Guys like that ruin girls like youse futures," Is what they tell me.

I know he liked sports,

But I didn't know he was into that type of game.

Game? 

I'm trying to figure out how I became prey.

I've always relied on my intellegence,

But naivety is ignorance of matters of the heart.

Things I know nothing about.

Suddenly, I feel color blind.

Everyone can see the red flags

But me.

This poem is about: 
Me

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