Born to Be Used

Born to Be Used
I was never shown real love, not once, not whole,
Torn from my father, a child without control.
Moved states away, just a whisper, a ghost,
Forgotten by him when I needed him most.
My mother was young, a child herself,
Running from pain, leaving wounds on the shelf.
She raised me blind to the things she lacked,
Love and warmth--she never gave back.
A stepfather present, but distant and cold,
Working, controlling, no hand to hold.
Not then, not now, no bond remains,
Just echoes of silence and childhood pains.
I was born to be useful, never just free,
A pawn in their life, not a child to be.
A babysitter, a burden, a task to complete,
A life meant for others, my own left weak.
Then love found me--so I thought, so naive,
He came in like comfort, he made me believe.
He painted his lies with flowers and nights,
Then tightened his grip, stole all of my light.
He watched, he waited, he needed control,
Love turned to chains that swallowed me whole.
I stayed too long, too blind, too worn,
Trapped in the arms that made me feel torn.
And when I broke free, love knocked again,
A man who was kind, who wasn't pretend.
But broken hearts do what broken hearts do,
I ran from the good, I shattered it too.
I trusted a lie, a whisper, a face,
A man with false words, who left just a trace.
Quick as he came, he vanished in air,
Leaving me empty, too numb to care.
So here I stand, a lesson, a scar,
A story of love that never got far.
Yet through the darkness, I hope, I dream,
That love will find me, real and redeemed.