Signs of a Struggle

Is it not befitting to mourn what I lost,
when I never once fought to keep anything?
I was always too fragile for the fight,

So, at the first the hint of trouble, I packed up my heart
and my record collection, and
I went on my way.

Never any signs of a struggle,
yet, I reduced love, after love,
to rubble.

My heart lies in
ruins; a victim of my own
destruction.

But a victim, nonetheless.

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