Let girls be angry,

Because that will fuel,

More emotion,

Then your “Love,”

Ever did,

And I’m tired of,

It being ok,

For boys to be angry,

But not for girls.

If my friend,

Asked the same question,

She did sixth months ago,

” Kind of a pretty boy,

Isn’t he?”

I️ would have a different answer,

Because he may look nice,

But his insides,

Are horrible,

Because he didn’t care,

When he broke my heart.

You didn’t think I was dangerous,

Left only with,

The wilted flowers,

You once gave me,

As proof of your love,

And a heart,

That was determined,

Not to break.

But,

Then again,

You never thought much of me,

At all.

So no wonder,

I came back,

With a bow,

Made from all the broken promises,

You never kept,

And arrows,

Made from the flowers,

Wilted in all the vases,

That you left,

Because I guess,

I was tired of being,

A princess,

When I could be,

A warrior,

And save myself.

You were once,

In the photograph,

On the front page,

But now you are,

Just part of the album,

With the words,

“My life,”

On the front.

Because you were once,

The person who,

I valued above everyone else,

But times change,

And people do too,

And now,

You are just,

A photograph,

On a page,

In my album.