They say, “Oh, forgive, just let it go!
Move on, be free, it’s time, you know.”
But I was the one left standing there,
Heart cracked open—raw, laid bare.
It’s easy to preach “just wipe it clean,”
But who bore the weight? Who felt unseen?
It’s my call to forgive, or not, you see—
Why is that so hard to let be?
Yes, I’ll cry till the rivers run dry,
Feel betrayal sting, ask the “why?”
For every piece of me that got torn,
My feelings don’t need to be reformed.
Why does my choice make you tense?
I am not the fixer for your conscience!
I’m not here to soothe every bruise,
I decide who wins my heart’s truce.
So let me rage, and let me heal,
I own these scars—I own what I feel.
Forgiveness will come when I say,
On my terms, in my way, someday.
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