Iron fist

I guess it’s true how they say that compliments go to your head while insults go to your heart.

When a man told me that I was beautiful – I smiled and didn’t believe a word from it. I thought of how easy it was to pick up compliments from their pockets and hand you one without a blink of an eye. I suppose it wouldn’t really cost much, not a penny of dignity nor a buck of reputation.

When a man told me that I was not good enough for the man I loved – I smiled and believed every single word of it. I thought of how hard it was to get from your hard earned savings and hand it to someone without a heavy heart. I suppose harsh truths costs more than the friendship and more than the ties you’re about to cut.

Maybe I was born a masochist. My heart was formed with an iron fist but only hits itself. Why is it easier to water the worst parts of you than the good ones?

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