Trusting in the harmful imperfect friends

How do I walk away from those out to destroy the trust I have built with them? How can the levels explored, of us, be reached when the displays are such?

Dare they not understand the camparison I am left to do? I strive hard not to gain that view but how else do I plainly believe? The sights of rolled over trust is pressed hard against me.

I strive so hard not to camparison them to others who gave let me down. Yet how can I not do them right by laying the pros and cons against all others? They failed. They fell. Not meeting the guidelines and cracking.

Still the waters well within my slate eyes. The tears frantically stream down freckled pathways, damaging all that seems calm. I am reminded in those moments of turmoil, despair that we are all imperfect.

So much mind talk that the brain lashes out. Quaking. The hurt. I am left scrambling under extreme cries to remain firm, giving them a benefit of a doubt. Yet why?

Forgiveness.

So sad that I don't know how to let go of the frail me. The harm that is hugging my frame. Tightening over the slight form enhancing the need to fall. Crumbling to the solace of a darkened room. The shadows engulf me as I roam the floors.

Dare I even project the harm that can damage? Though I no longer seek ways of marring my skin one slash at a time. The desperate need to find a release of anguish holds high.

What raging destruction can I attain in my means of today? The ideas I dredge up. Hooking onto a scheme and clung heartened to it.

How so I still stand when crashing,  burning is the wake I so dearly deserve? How do I allow myself to remain standing tall when the knife they wield is wedged deep with my gut?

Never once did they bother to address the hurt sliced inside of me. Neither  will I say. My pain of trust isn't their pole to carry.

I must continue to love. Alas now I hold at a distance. As expected of me. The wounds inside still are reminders to keep trust high and expectations of others, low.

How else will I be able to support many in the years to come?