They call her a slut, a player, a whore
But what do they know?
How can they not see that she is the one being used?
She cries herself to sleep at night begging for comfort
She just wants to be loved
She has been hurt so many times, she cannot recollect
She clings to the littlest signs of affection
She wonders what is wrong with her
She tries too hard then she plays hard to get
She falls easily only to be walked over
They always leave never staying long enough for closure
So willing to give what is left of her heart
Never receiving as much as a thank you
Love is a funny thing; it does not work if it is one-sided
Don’t judge her, she is just a repeated victim of cupid.
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