Someone asked me to write my story
It would never be a simple story to tell
Too many undertones and whispers
Too many foes that wished me hell.
A true blue would had never been written into my story
The lines that would of been left for that, would not exist.
So many times the plot of my chapters would be changed
I would be the villian in one chapter
And in the next I would had been the victim.
For chapters and chapters my story would have had changes
In real life , I searched for happiness over my pain
Waited often for that true blue
But sadly no one came to fit into those shoes
Each individual I encountered and lived with
Would of written their own versions of my story
In it I am sure they would had been heroes or protectors
At least that is what they told me and themselves.
They only wanted what was best,
But their best gave me no rest
Their best caused me anguish and pain
They pierced through my heart and went straight to the vein
Suddenly as if I would of known
I had to leave that chaotic home
My innocent was gone
But I proved I could make it, on my own
But nothing was ever the same.
My true blue later came
I married him.
He was the reward and I was the grabber
Showing me all the time what a true blue looks like
How they will stay and fight
For those they hold dear
And the things that mattered, all these years
His love is sufficient, his touch is the glue
I am so thankful my story will have a true blue.
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