The Cry of a Broken Virgin
I wore my dreams like morning light,
Soft and pure, untouched by night,
A heart that bloomed in quiet grace,
Hope shining gently in my face.
I trusted words, so sweet, so kind,
Believed the love I thought was mine,
But promises can fade like air,
And leave behind a silent tear.
The world I knew began to shake,
Not from a choice I chose to make,
But from a pain I couldn’t name,
A sudden loss, a hidden flame.
My voice was lost between the cries,
A storm of questions, broken skies,
“Why me?” echoed deep inside,
As innocence and trust both died.
Yet even in this wounded space,
A quiet strength begins to trace,
For though I bend, I will not fall,
There’s still a light beyond it all.
I am not what was taken away,
Nor the darkness of that day,
I am more than silent fears—
I rise, I heal, I face my tears.
I wore my dreams like morning light,
Soft and pure, untouched by night,
A heart that bloomed in quiet grace,
Hope shining gently in my face.
I trusted words, so sweet, so kind,
Believed the love I thought was mine,
But promises can fade like air,
And leave behind a silent tear.
The world I knew began to shake,
Not from a choice I chose to make,
But from a pain I couldn’t name,
A sudden loss, a hidden flame.
My voice was lost between the cries,
A storm of questions, broken skies,
“Why me?” echoed deep inside,
As innocence and trust both died.
Yet even in this wounded space,
A quiet strength begins to trace,
For though I bend, I will not fall,
There’s still a light beyond it all.
I am not what was taken away,
Nor the darkness of that day,
I am more than silent fears—
I rise, I heal, I face my tears.
