Member-only story
“He who lives trusting, dies betrayed.” — Nietzsche
The deepest wounds
And ugliest scars
In the soft tissue
Of my soul
Came
Not from enemies
Not from those
Who openly sought
To hurt me
They did not come
From a bolt
From the blue
Or random
Unthinking
Chance
They were not
Accidents
Or mistakes
Or some other
Mishap
Each of them
Each bloody laceration
Each terrible
Slashing
Blow
Of
Shuddering
Destruction
Each of them
Were cut
Into
My soul
By hands
That
I
Loved
