A keen collector of women’s tears
You act like you have no remorse
Stacked up like holiday souvenirs
Along with broken hearts, of course
You’ve trodden this path many times before
You have no scruples about it at all
It seems that you’re just keeping score
As you paste more tears up on your wall
The grief you made and the tears I cried
Left me deluded at the end
To want the love that you denied
Can’t even class you as a friend
I’m less deluded but now I’m sad
I thought we had a special thing
But dealing with someone so bad
When all I was, was just a fling
Now all my love is locked away
There’s no time for a man of vice
Who lives off all his selfish ways
I’ll no longer make that sacrifice
Good luck, your future looks so bleak
Never mind what I have lost
Cos you’ll realise that it’s you that’s weak
When you come to count the cost
Fooling under false pretences
Truly you’re not very nice
Breaking down my strong defences
Cruelly never thinking twice
So you’re a collector of tears like trophies
Well, no more from me, now just go please!
Your poem talks of breaking free… That's the first step.
Ron
Michael D.