Wicked Game

Early morning with memories of my dead daughter…

Playing with someone’s heart. You know what you’re doing. They don’t. Pretending to care when all you care about are your own selfish needs. Pulling them in, and after sexual gratification, tossing them away, until the next time. And they wait, patiently.

The vulnerable have already been wounded, fragile. Their lives stop as yours continues. You are their life. The pain…hanging on to the words, “I love you.” Vacant words in the vocabulary of a predator.


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