Malice
You were sweet angelic even
When you spoke the sky cracked open
The trees applauded
The world bent to your every whim
I bent to your every whim
You looked at me as if I was an illusion
You treated me like I was gold
I was a diamond
Still you broke me with the sharpest words from your lips
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@quiet.stormz
My name is Abigail. I write what festers. My poems come from locked rooms, bruised memories, and the silence between screams. I don’t chase healing—I just name what hurts.
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