WHEN MY ROSE COLOURED SPECTACLES FELL

By Julie Shackman

Wizened heart,

Its black ash,

Bleeding contradictions,

Pomposity and entitlement,

While I searched for answers,

To why your narcissist poison,

Tried to rob me of my optimism.

Your dark deceit and river of lies,

Stand testament to your foul soul,

An ugly, twisted monument,

Bathed in bitterness and resentment.

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