The Truth.

A Poem by Spunk

This is kind of what I felt after suppressing the truth for too long.

The tears;
running down her cheeks,
with a voice so unable to speak.

The sweet taste;
of his lips was just a phase,
in so many ways that continue to amaze.

And sicken;
with a gut wrenching punch
and the heart clenching feelings.

So unreal;
and O how she wishes to feel,
the bliss she once knew
before the nut and the screw..

Gabbed, into her soul.. and morals,
of a stupid little girl
with only gloss and curls.

Penetration;
with a stab in the heart.
Like an art so vile and yet so smart.

Ripped and torn; expression of scorn.

The truth we suppress;
is what's left of the dress that's strewn on the floor
and nothing more.