This was all she was left with, all that she had become herself. Borne of so-called unconditional love and sacrifice, and both having expectations from her. Her eyes wept and wept yet all her hearts tears couldn't flow out her eyes, couldn't wash the indelible scars her wounds had left. Hurting and ever-fresh, yet scars. She broke and shattered bit by bit inside but love and sacrifice never noticed, and accused her of exploitation and opportunism; blamed her of having hurt them. She gave her all and she gave her best but they expected from her to support one and she couldn't; though she tried. She could live without both but not support one against the other. They fought in front of her; they fought through her, always injured her in the process and screamed it was love and sacrifice. Such lies. Such blatant lies. Myths of love and sacrifice. Then they accused her of enjoying the dispute and gaining of it. Leaving her as always, disappointed; with both, love and sacrifice.
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