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Click hereWe have all at one time or another been betrayed.
And finding out was like being hit with a grenade.
There was nothing left, not a shred of hope
And at times you thought the best was a noose made of rope.
Somehow, someway, it got past that, but to what end,
For I know my heart still can’t find a way to mend.
Each time I begin it seems to crumble to pieces.
Or is this just another one of those used life leases.
At times it’s easier to put on a happy face,
Then to look at others and feel their pity, my disgrace.
My insides feel like they went through the grinder.
Why isn’t our god, if there is such as he, kinder.
The pain and suffering we all bare from time to time,
Why can’t the penance be to those that committed the crime.
The suffering within is more then I can take,
And yet instead of suicide I struggle to wake.
To take back that part of me that was cruelly ripped away,
So that one day, my tainted smell will be a fresh bouquet.
Let me find the strength to carry on, to be myself.
Instead of rotting up on a dark closet shelf.
And elsewhere I would consolidate your thoughts to improve excessive wordiness. For example, this could be the first stanza: I've been betrayed
hit by a grenade
nothing left, even hope
or a noose made of rope
Perhaps that is too stark for your taste, but I feel "less is more" may apply here.