She Who Cut Herself

Of anyone in this world, it is her, who knows best.
Her, who cuts the deepest. Not of blades, that once was staple to a war,
but words that ingrain in the mind.

She knew too well, how vicious words can be,
how poisonous she could get.
To build a fortress, she would sting like a bee.

One day, he came along. A presence so strong, all the walls she spend building,
tumbled.
What was once toxic, had finally met her antidote.

As she grew to be with him, or not that all,
she became aware.
From the things she say, from the way she acts, and thoughts she revels.

So the words that cut like knives, she held back.
Swallowing those blades that cuts her every day.
She grew to become a woman of little words.

And one day, everything's gone.
And so was she.

Most of the time, I think. I'm ready. To be in the long run.

The marathon. But I've been going on for so long. 

When are things finally coming into full circle? 

I feel like I've been on the drawing board for a bit too long.