Have you ever been in a relationship where you gave your all, only to have your vulnerability used against you? Where the words spoken were as sharp as the betrayals that followed? This poem reflects that moment, when the ones we trust most in the world—those who claim to stand for respect and love—turn out to be the ones who hurt us the most.
You speak of respect for your mother,
Bow to your sister’s strength—
Yet you turned to me, your voice sharpened:
“Can’t you find another man?”
Work beckons you, you say,
More urgent than my quiet pleas.
You laugh at my tears,
While boasting of her—your next trophy, your next bed.
So, what if you left in my hour of need?
You’ll hide it behind your self-made mask,
Pretending to be the loving man,
A saint for the world to see.
You humiliated my heart, my essence as a woman,
While building an empire of borrowed pride.
You earned their respect with hollow victories,
Climbing ladders made of suppression and betrayal.
But wait—
One day, you’ll hold your own daughter.
You’ll see her pain, hear her cries.
And in that moment, the mirrors will shatter.
You’ll burn in your shame,
As her tears echo mine.
So, what happens when the women in his life—his daughter, his sister, his mother—are hurt by something he can no longer ignore? Will he still disregard their pain, brushing it off as if it’s nothing? Or will he finally learn to see them, to feel their suffering, instead of turning his back like he did to me?
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