Have pride

To whom I put on the pedestal of my heart, He took it fainly and tore it apart, with every ounce of strength and hate, he roared it out loud loud enough to tear the lewd association with the chambers of my heart. To whom I put on the pedestal of my heart, He took my pride and tore it part, tore it apart with sticks and bones with each pieces of my lips and nose To whom I put on the pedestal of my heart, stole all those word i knitted for him in a glass of jar, the jar he took and crushed it apart. The glass hurted less than his roar, the roar reaching yet again in the chambers of my heart. His roar has now damaged my ears, for I am numb and deaf to the noise. Now I wonder to have pride in what? my beauty or my pain?