Feeding Wolves with Trust

Everything hurts. Everything aches. To lay it all down, to be at the mercy of another. To give it all for a feeling so fragile. To hand over your heart and hope it won’t be crushed. How stupid. How naïve of us. Why do we expect hope from others? Why believe it ever ends well? Why beg love from those built to destroy it? What cruel instinct taught me to trust? What part of me still believed they'd be kind? They treat hearts like games, Grinning as they set fire to everything inside you. I gave them my soul like a gift. They laughed as it burned. Mocked the ashes. Left — without even seeing what they ruined. How dumb. How pathetic. To give power to something made of chaos. To expect light from what thrives in shadow. To hope for care from hands that only take. A naïve dream, from a runt of its kind. Survival of the fittest — but I loved like prey. Now I lie here with a hole in my chest, A void beneath, pulsing with crushed dreams and fading hopes. I fed wolves with trust and called them human. Held daggers to my throat and called it love. Begged mercy from a species that forgets its own blood. And still, I thought they'd care. Foolish. Pathetic. They say healing is human — but so