NO MANUAL FOR POLITE VICTIMS

Nobody told me growing up would be hard, No manual for love, no guide to guard. At a tender age, I fell for men, Older, wiser, but with hearts of stone within. Their words were sweet, but actions cold, Leaving me shattered, my heart turned old. I tried those my age, but they were no better, No manual to teach me how to love with limits and weather. Nobody gave me the manuscript on how to handle a man, To love with boundaries, to protect my heart and plan. No warning signs, no red flags to beware, Just a naive heart, open to love, without a care. I cried my heart out, lost my appetite too, Depression crept in, with anxiety and stress anew. Men required so much, sex, blow jobs, and hand jobs galore, Leaving me used, abused, and discarded on the floor. No body taught me, no body warned me, There was no manual for the polite victim, you see. No guide to navigate the treacherous waters of love, Just a vulnerable heart, sent to face the world above. The big bully heartbreak scavenged me to death, Leaving me miserable, with a heart that lost its breath. No body taught me, no body warned me, There was no manual for the polite victim, and now I see.